10 Plus Times
by aintsettlin
Summary: An explanation of the "10-plus times" between Arizona and Leah, told from Leah's perspective.
1. Chapter 1

When I see your text message, I have to read it more than once to actually digest the words. Today, you scolded me at work, in a not so subtle way. And now, in the middle of the night, you send me a message, asking me what I'm up to? I should be angry, offended, revolted… but no, of course not. Instead, my heart speaks rather than my head. I read over your message again and my stomach flips. I wish I could stay angry with you, anger is an easy emotion. Unfortunately, you've already crawled under my skin and made yourself at home. I can't be angry with you when my entire body is reaching in your direction. And when I say my entire body, I mean my entire fucking body, because my stomach is twirling and my cheeks are flushed and my ears are ringing, blocking out every sound around me as I look down at your name on my phone. I even love your name, how pathetic is that? I feel pathetic, drawn toward you even though I know you want nothing more than the physical touch of someone that desires you. I know this, and it hurts a little, and yet I'm excited that you would even consider me over others. So no, my mind doesn't control me as I message you back, my heart does. And within thirty minutes, I'm knocking on your hotel room door. I try to be confident, but I think I come off as shy, or possibly aloof. You don't mind though, as you throw a simple smile at me. I smile back of course, but not softly or delicately. When I see your eyes, your expression, only inches in front of me, I can't help but grin from ear to ear. Damn it, you have such an effect on me. I both hate and love it.

"Hey," you say, quietly.

"Hey," I say back, trying to consciously still my body from fidgeting.

"Come in." You gesture for me to enter your hotel room. As you close the door behind me, the concept of us alone in a room together does not go unnoticed. I feel nervous, excited, eager. I want to know what you have in mind, even though I think I have a good idea.

"You want a drink?" You walk over to the mini bar and pull out a bottle of wine. You open it before I actually respond with a nod. In seconds, you're back in front of me with two glasses in your hand.

"Thanks," I mutter, glancing down to grip the glass. Suddenly, I don't know how to look you in the eye, to make this more comfortable. But you don't seem nervous at all. You're extremely at ease.

"Leah, I'm sorry about today. I was harsh."

"You were honest," I respond, taking a drink of the wine.

"I was blunt, and I shouldn't have been. I apologize." You dip your head to catch my gaze and bring it up. "I want something easy between us, uncomplicated." You pause momentarily as you watch my expression turn to curiosity. "If you're interested in that, then I think I can make it worth your while. And I can make up for what I said earlier, my rudeness."

I want to tell you that you weren't being rude, you were just trying to get my attention and explain that you didn't, don't, want a relationship with me. But instead of opening my mouth and speaking the words, I merely look at you. You look back and we're silent for a few seconds. The only thought running through my mind is suddenly front and center. I steady my body and softly lick my lips.

"How, exactly, will you make it up to me?" I ask, wondering if you will respond to me better if I'm this way, flirty and fun.

Immediately, your smile widens and your eyes droop in a heady way. Yeah, I think you like this better. You like flirting and teasing much more than serious and somber. I take note of my realization and commit it to memory. I know this can't be permanent, this thing we're about to engage in, but I can try to hold onto it for as long as possible. If I have to be easygoing and simple for you, then I will. Or in the very least, I'll try to be.

You move in close then and gingerly remove the glass of wine from my hand. You set both of our glasses down on a nearby surface before swiftly returning to face me. You step into my body, your right hand resting on my hip and your left hand moving up toward my cheek. You trail the tip of your finger down my skin to rest lightly on my hairline. I watch as your eyes move to my neck. I lose any train of thought as I see you bend down slightly, intent on bringing your mouth into contact with my sensitive skin. The idea of you, of who you are and what your life has consisted of… the idea of how strong and intoxicating you are in every situation I've ever seen you in… makes my mind go blank. My body takes over, sending goose bumps up and down my limbs. Arizona Robbins is about to kiss my neck. I couldn't form a reasonable thought if I wanted to.

I feel your excruciatingly soft lips touch the hot skin of my neck, and I practically swoon. I drop my head back, and you take advantage of the movement. You grip my hip with your one hand as you push our bodies together. Your tongue slides sensually below my ear. I vaguely take in the sound of my gasp hitting the air of the hotel room. You're soft and slow for a moment, and I relish every second, before your mouth becomes suddenly quick and rushed. You place a flurry of kisses along my jaw as your hands push under my shirt. I get the hint. I raise my arms and you make quick work of removing the material.

In the instant before your lips crush against mine, I'm hopeful, anticipating the feeling of your mouth actually on mine. Once more, the concept alone is daunting in the most delicious way. But when we finally kiss, I want to savor it while you only want to push past it. I can tell, because you aren't gentle or tender. You're not looking for the fireworks to explode above us as we connect in such an intimate way, like I am. You're looking for the heat that comes with two people consuming one another. You're looking for the feeling of desire and lust coming alive. I can feel that very desire and lust emanating from your body, which is sexy as hell, but it does nothing for my internally conflicting emotions. I know that I'm interested in you so much more than you're interested in me. I know this without a doubt, but it doesn't stop me from falling deeply into you while you merely move with my form in a rushed, detached sort of way. It stings, but I ignore it, wanting to take advantage of every second I have with you before I know you'll want to push me to the side.

You nudge me backwards until the back of my knees hit the bed. Your mouth switches from kissing me to yet again gliding your tongue along my neck. I wonder if you have a thing for necks, or if you just want to avoid connecting in such a way that only kisses allow.

Your fingers skillfully remove my bra and I realize that I've hardly even touched you yet. My God, how I want to touch you. But will you let me? Is this supposed to be a one-sided thing? I don't know, but I'll only find out if I try. So I do just that, bringing my hands to the hem of your blue tank top. Your skin is hot, so hot. When I move my fingers alongside your stomach and against your hip, you moan into my neck. It is by far the sexiest thing I've heard in my entire life. I guess this isn't a one-sided thing then, if the sensation of my hands on your skin causes such a reaction. Not to mention, the thought that my hands, my untalented, feeble hands, are causing you to moan, sends desire shooting down my legs. All I know is that I want to hear you moan again, and so much louder.

I swiftly remove your top with your help. I see your lust-filled eyes take in my naked breasts as I gaze down at your clothed ones. They aren't clothed for long. Keeping in mind how badly I want to hear you moan again, I change our positions so that it's me facing the bed. I try to convey an air of confidence as I push down your thin shorts and panties together in one motion. I briefly glance at your prosthetic as you step out of them. I stand back up and urge you to lie down on the white bed. You do so. I very quickly shed my remaining clothes before straddling your hips. The sight of you under me, naked, blonde curls sprawled about on the plush pillow, causes wetness to gather in between my thighs. Never could I have imagined this scenario, but I'm so grateful to be in it, even temporarily.

I lean close to you and place my hands on either side of your head. I glance down at your lips. You notice, and run your tongue along them. I could get used to seeing that.

"Um, Leah," you say just above a whisper, causing me to look away from your seductive lips.

"Yeah?"

"As much as I like you being there, on top of me, I just need you to slide off for a second so I can remove my prosthetic."

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry. Did I sit too hard on you or something?" Damn it, I was trying to be smooth. I jump to the side and you sit up. You chuckle as you begin to remove the plastic limb.

"No, you're fine. It'll just be easier." Once removed, you lean it against the nightstand and turn on your side to look at me. "Now come back here."

I don't hesitate to do as I'm told. Back on top of you, I take a moment to simply admire how goddamn beautiful you are. I must stare for a little too long, because you speak up.

"You okay?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. I don't actually respond with my voice; I simply nod my head and bring my lips to yours. I want to kiss you for as long as you'll have me.

In seconds, you once again change our kiss from soft and gentle to fast and rough. Your tongue hits mine, which causes my head to spin, and suddenly, I feel your nimble hand slide down my stomach to land in between my legs. You don't waste time in pushing against me, which causes my mouth to break away from yours and gasp for air. Damn, what happened to foreplay? I guess you're not interested in that right now.

Your fingers push against my clit. My mouth drops down to your exposed breasts. Your move in circles against me and I mimic the motion against your nipples. With each passing second, your nipples harden and my clit becomes more swollen. Your skillful fingers eventually move down to explore how wet I am. The sensation causes my heartbeat to increase. Your spare hand wraps around my neck and you bring your lips to my ear.

"I want you to ride me," you whisper erotically.

Your words throw me off. I remove my lips from your breast and look at your currently dark blue eyes.

"I want to watch you Leah. I want to watch you ride my fingers. Are you into that?"

Are you kidding? I'm into just about everything that involves you, including _riding_ your exquisite fingers.

I barely manage to nod my head in agreement before you promptly push inside me. I throw my head back and groan loudly into the air. When I manage to glance back down, I see you smirking. You must enjoy having such an influence over me.

You propel your fingers inside me with a rhythm that I easily match. My hips jerk forward and back, wanting to feel every inch of you within me. It's your hand moving against me, inside me. It's you staring up at me with an expression of barely restrained yearning. It's you, the woman I've had stuck in my head for weeks. It's you, the woman who kissed me that night outside of Joe's bar, who text me in the middle of the night craving sex. It's you, and the notion drives me wild.

Your thumb moves up so as to hit my clit with every thrust. My hands clench your hips, turning the skin white from the pressure. When you unexpectedly add another finger inside me, my nails dig into you. Your eyes flutter closed and I hear exactly what I wanted, your moan. The sound is so sensual and yet so raw at the same time. That describes you actually, right now. Your eyes are hooded with desire. Your skin is flushed. Your right hand is plunging into me in the most delightful way. Your left hand is grasping my thigh, helping to pull me forward with each jerk of my hips. You know what you're doing. You already know so well how to bring my body into the surreal realm of ecstasy and pleasure. You scrape the nails of your left hand down my thigh and it causes my body to shove just a little harder against you. In mere moments, I know I'm close to hitting my orgasm. I don't want it to be here so fast. I don't want this to end, this intensity we've created. Nonetheless, I don't stop my hips from flying forward and back, from allowing your fingers to fuck me in such an amazing way.

And then, there it is, that sensation of muscles tightening and nerves coming to life with unbelievable electricity and power. I want to watch you as I come undone, as my body convulses because of your fingers moving rapidly inside me, but I can't. I just can't keep my eyes open. So I clench them closed and instead of losing myself in the strength of your eyes, I lose myself in the feeling of your thumb hitting my clit, of the pads of your fingers hitting that spot within me. I lose myself in the sound of your heavy breathing, in knowing that I'm the one causing you to breathe that heavily, even while barely touching you. I simply lose myself in all that there is of you in this moment.

My orgasm tears through my body in the most divine way. I want to feel it forever, the orgasm that you caused, that you created. My legs shake and my thighs tighten. The walls around your fingers spasm and I whimper out loud. I want so terribly to say your name, to moan your name along my tongue. But I don't. I don't think you would want to hear me crying out your name in this moment, because no matter how exceptional this may be for me, to you, this is probably no more than a quick exchange in the night. So I keep my sounds to a minimum, allowing my few whimpers to turn into groans before I eventually stop the movements of my hips.

I keep my eyes closed for the longest time. And you, you keep your fingers inside me, unmoving. I savor the ethereal waves that continue to make their way from my thighs to my stomach, until slowly, eventually, they subside. My orgasm has ended, and I'm scared to open my eyes. I don't want you to kick me out of this room. I don't want to see the look of regret in your eyes that I somehow think I will when I glance down at you. I just don't want to see it. But I have to, right? I have to force myself back into the reality of this hotel room, where I know you're looking at me, probably wanting me to silently gather myself and move on.

Gradually, as calmly as I can manage, I peer down and take in the sight of you. You're not smiling, but you're not unhappy either. You look, satisfied. I haven't even touched you, and you look sated. How is that possible? Are you the type of person that gets off on simply getting someone else off? Or is it more than that? Are you craving some sort of control, and now that you have that control over me, you're content? I could be wrong, but I think that's it.

We're both quiet until you leisurely pull your fingers from within me. This causes me to sigh briefly. And then, showing that you have no intention for this night to come to a close, you say the most fascinating thing.

"Do you want room service?"


	2. Chapter 2

You comforted me today. I was scared that I might have contracted HIV from my patient. You comforted me, when you didn't have to. I was trying to hide my tears from you but you just wouldn't have it. You asked me why I hadn't told you. I said that obviously, I didn't tell you because I've been trying to be "easy peasy." You looked at me with a tone of disappointment. Hell, even I was disappointed in myself. I mean, who the hell says easy peasy anyway? And then after you comforted me, you looked at me with a kind eye and a compassionate heart. You said that in that moment, it wasn't the time to be easy peasy. You understood what I was doing all day, avoiding you, acting casual, and yet you kindly informed me that it was okay to not act that way. You opened your arm to me, metaphorically, and now I'm left wondering if you know how grateful I am.

After having drinks with Stephanie at Joe's, and dressing up like a hillbilly cowgirl, I clean myself up in the bar bathroom. I wipe the fake freckles from my cheeks and the darkened black coloring on my tooth. With a last look in the mirror, I head out. I grab my phone and send you a text.

_Busy?_

I put the phone in my pocket and stroll out into the night. There's a slight drizzle, which hits my hair. I put my pretend cowgirl hat back on in an attempt to maintain my dry curls until I get back inside. I start walking down the road, both in the direction of the hotel you're staying at and my own place, in case you don't text me back. As if on cue, I feel the soft vibration from my cell. When I look at the screen, an inadvertent smile graces my lips. I like seeing your name appear on my phone.

_Just got in. Care to join me? _

Of course I care to join you! I'd probably join you just about anywhere, anytime, which says a lot about me lately.

_Definitely. As long as you don't mind seeing me in costume. _

Your reply is fast.

_Don't worry, you won't be in it for long. _

My eyes close as I read your message. You send tingles throughout my body so much easier than I'd like to admit. I place the phone in my pocket again. The drizzling rain is coming down a little harder now so I pick up my pace. Only a block from your hotel, the rain turns into a downpour. I'm easily soaked from head to toe in seconds. I rush to the main entrance and find haven in the warmth inside. I remove my hat and hold it in my hands as I head toward the elevator. I hit the number for your floor and eagerly await the ascent upward. As the doors open, I turn toward your room. When I'm a few feet away, I look up and see you leaning in the entryway.

"Hey?" I say, more of a question than anything else.

"Nice outfit." You hastily give me the once over.

"How'd you know I was here?" I ask.

"I saw you from my window. I've got a clear view of the entrance." You grab my shirt and pull me in. Our lips only inches apart, you whisper against me. "I see you're a little wet."

"That's an understatement." I squeeze the bottom of my shirt and water drips down.

"Good," you say, your breath hot against me. "I like you wet."

You crush our mouths together and after our last two encounters, I know now that this is how you like it between us, quick and frantic. Instead of allowing you to pull us inside of your hotel room, I decide to take the lead tonight and push you backward. I feel you smirk against me as we continue to kiss. Once inside, I kick the door shut and continue to usher you back. I never break away from you as I detour us into the bathroom. I drop my hat outside the doorway and then I almost roughly shove you against the vanity, which causes you to moan into my mouth. I wonder just how rough you like it?

Your hands make quick work of my shirt, unbuttoning the material and carelessly throwing it to the side. I just as quickly pull your black and white flowered shirt up. Only you could pull off a floral shirt like this, I swear. In seconds, we're both bare above the waist. You move to grip my breasts, to pay them some much-desired attention, but I don't let you. I grab your wrists and shove them to your sides. You look at me with uncertainty, questioning me.

"I want you to sit on this," I pat the counter top. "Can you do that?"

After a brief glance, you place your left hand out beside me, palm facing the ground. Using your right leg and a boost from my hand in yours, you hop up. I like this, standing in front of you, my hands running up your thighs as you sit on a ledge. It's a nice angle, a convenient angle.

I move in between your legs and as we move in to kiss yet again, I grab both of your wrists like before. I move them above your head and push them against the mirror behind you. You move back a few inches on the surface while I bring myself as close to you as I can. Our mouths connect and I surprise you by biting your lower lip. You moan loudly. The sounds you make drive me insane. I can feel the wetness already gathering by my thighs. I want you to touch me there so badly, but not yet.

With your hands pinned above your head by my left hand, I skillfully undo your pants with my right. I pull back from our kiss and watch you as you sit there, staring back at me. Sometimes, I can be emotional. Sometimes, I can be clingy. But tonight, since you helped me with my needs during the day, I want to help you with your needs at night. I want to show you that yes, I can satisfy you in ways that I know you don't think I can. I can be emotionless, intense, bold. I may not be all of those things all the time, but tonight, I will be. Tonight I will bring you to the brink and back again. I'll show you exactly who you've become involved with.

I swiftly bring my hand down to where I know you want it. I push against you. I push into you. I am not gentle. I'm probably more rough than you expect, because you gasp, and I love it. I love seeing your head fall back and bang loudly against the mirror. I want to see it again; I want to see more of it. Remembering how much you love when my nails dig into you, I do just that to your wrists. You hiss. I force my fingers into you in the most incredible way. Judging by the manner in which your lips part, you must be enjoying this as much as I am.

I move to your ear and trace the outline with my tongue. You shudder and lean into me.

"Are you enjoying this?" I ask you, my voice raspy and filled with desire.

"God yes." Your eyes are clenched as I continue to drive deep into you. And suddenly, I stop. Your blue eyes shoot back open and you groan in frustration. You look at me. For a moment, I don't respond with anything but a smile.

"Do you want me to continue?" I question, barely above a whisper.

"You know I do."

"Then help me remove your pants." In an instant, you rip your hands from my grip and you lift yourself from the vanity. I pull down the dark material, trailing my fingertips over your thighs as I remove them. Your prosthetic is still on, but it doesn't seem to be bothering you, so I don't ask if you want to take it off.

Now naked, I very slowly take in your form. You are too beautiful. It's hard to believe you're even real. But you are, and you're in front of me in this very moment, waiting for me to touch you. You want me to touch you in the most intimate of ways. I could make love to you forever. That's not what's happening here though. This is certainly not love.

"Well?" You raise an eyebrow at me. "Are you going to continue?"

I saunter back toward you and move my hands to your hips. I lean in for a quick kiss before moving to your jaw. I love kissing you here, because you move your head back and you expose your enticing neck. I could nibble on your neck for an endless amount of time, and so I choose to settle here, just an inch or so below your ear, until you literally growl out loud. Damn is it hot.

"Why aren't you…" You falter, not saying exactly what you want.

"Why aren't I what, touching you?" I move to face you, our lips a single breath apart.

"Yes." You don't look impressed.

"But I am touching you." You stare at me for a moment before taking a calming breath. You seize both of my hands in yours and rub your thumb along the crevice of my fore fingers.

"Either you touch me, or I'll touch myself."

_Damn_. I would love to see that. But tonight is not that night.

I shift our bodies so that I can easily maneuver down your stomach. I crouch in front of you. I'm tall, so this position works for me. On my knees, with you relaxing on the counter beside the sink, I breathe in the unique scent that is everything about you. My mouth waters. I can't wait this out. I need to know how you taste. I need to know how you feel on my tongue. And I so badly need to know how you react when my mouth is completely covering you.

I allow the tip of my tongue to touch your clit, and your head flies back to hit the mirror again. I swirl my tongue around you. Your reaction is amazing as you moan in a way that you haven't up until now. It's an unrestrained, completely vulnerable type of moan. All I know is that I love it and I'll be sad when I can't hear it anymore.

I continue to explore you with my tongue. I've never wanted to explore someone so thoroughly. I want to learn everything I can about you, from what makes you moan to what makes you sigh to what makes you scream. I want to know the areas of your body that make you tense up and the areas that make you relax. I want to learn these things about you, and I can't honestly remember wanting to learn them about anyone else before.

I twirl my tongue around your now very sensitive clit until all of a sudden, your right leg hooks around my neck. I wasn't expecting that. For the millionth time, you are able to shock me and turn me on in the same instant. I drag my tongue down to practically drink you up. You taste unimaginable, perfect.

I caress your thighs while I feel your fingers tangle in my now damp hair. My tongue finds your clit again and I circle you slowly. Then I begin to lick back and forth, all the while listening to the sounds you emit. I take your clit in my mouth entirely and suck on it, only to hear an intense sound escape from your mouth, signaling your approval. I suck harder. I feel your thighs begin to shake beside my cheeks. I continue to suck until I feel your wetness make its way onto my chin. The thought of your arousal dripping along my mouth is unbearably hot. As slyly as possible, I remove my right hand from your leg and position it right at your opening. I squeeze your thigh with my other hand, lick your clit again from side to side, and then swiftly drive my fingers inside you.

You cry out, and my own clit begins to throb at the idea of how provocative this all is. I slowly push my fingers into you again and again, all the while alternating between licking and sucking at you. The intoxicating smell and taste surrounding me is titillating. The heat from your body seeping onto mine is beyond exhilarating.

I lick your engorged clit quicker now, as I feel your body clenching at the fingers I have thrusting inward. I savor the taste of the liquid dripping from you, and take pleasure in knowing that I caused it to appear. The taste is like no other, both salty and sweet. The scent is of lust itself. I love the musky aroma. I breathe it in again as I detect your muscles begin to stiffen. I see the familiar arch in your back, the arch that comes right before climax. I hold on tight and try my best to engage every sense I can on your body. My nails dig into the skin of your thighs while I use my other hand to push deeper inside you. I use my entire tongue to slide up and down, side to side, and in circles around your clit. I suck it into my mouth and listen as you suddenly scream into the air. You've never screamed out before, not with me. I keep pushing into you in an attempt to draw out every wave of passion that I can.

A few seconds pass and your body finally relaxes. You lean back slightly and rest your head against the mirror, still surprisingly in one piece. Eventually, you ever so slowly look at me. I remove my fingers from your very hot core. You sigh at the loss. I stand and bring my mouth to your ear.

"I'm not done with you yet," I say, before swiftly gripping your hips and pulling you down from the counter. "I hope you're not tired."

I lace my fingers in yours and tug you into the bedroom. I'm still half-clothed and I don't intend to be for long. I want, I need, to hear you scream again before the morning comes. And I need to take advantage of what time I have with you, because the truth is, I don't know how many more nights we'll be able to have together.


	3. Chapter 3

It's late, the middle of the night. The world is asleep. I see you standing outside, a cigarette in your hand. You're looking out in the distance. I'm not sure what you're looking at. You don't notice me watching you. We've been involved for a week now. I'm constantly thinking about you, wondering what you're doing, what you're thinking. But today was a different day. I knew what you were doing and thinking today, as you fought for the life of a child. And you interacted briefly this afternoon with Callie. You fought with her about something that you wouldn't openly share with me. You lost both fights. At least I know that you and I will not fight. We don't have that type of relationship, or that type of passion. The passion we share is one of physical desire and reckless abandon. Night after night, you lose yourself in the act of sex, and I lose myself in you.

I allow my eyes to drift over your body. I take in your every dip and curve. I imagine gliding my hands down your legs, and back up again. I see you inhale from your cigarette and close your eyes. You lean your head back, your face directed toward the sky. A moment later, your eyelids open again and I watch as you admire the stars. You are so stunning. Just the image of you standing there, appearing so calm and serene, yet internally torn, makes me ache for you. I'm always aching for you. I can't stay back any longer.

I move forward, and you hear my approach right as I let my hands rest on your hips. Your back is to my chest. You try to turn your head and look at me, but I don't let you. I inhale your perfume and the faint scent of nicotine, letting myself fall into your unique aroma. You smell so damn good. My hands trail up along your sides, wanting to hold you as close as possible. My nails lightly scrape at your ribs through your shirt, moving up and down again. I feel you lean into me, so I pull you closer. I bend my head down and my lips graze your skin. The sensation of my lips against you causes you to exhale and drop your cigarette to the ground. I slide the tip of my tongue up to your ear and trace it slowly. I come back down to your ear lobe to softly nibble at you. As you're caught up in my ministrations, I bring my hands under your shirt. I let my palms feel the warmth of your skin against mine. I grip you softly and tightly at the same time. My hands roam your sides, your stomach, your breasts, as my mouth plants kisses all along your neck.

You begin to crave the feeling of my lips on yours, but I don't allow it. The kisses we share when our lips touch each other, they're complicated sometimes, both emotional and emotionless. Right now, I don't want complicated. Each time you tilt your head to the side, attempting to catch my mouth, I gently turn you back away. When my soft touches against you become too much to bear, you grind your ass against my center, and I gasp. You obviously want more. So I slide my left hand around your neck, making sure you don't sneak in a kiss. My right hand makes its way down to where you want it the most. I undo your pants and don't hesitate to slide in further. Your wetness shocks me. I never thought I could have such an effect over the great Arizona Robbins. The notion sends desire ripping through me.

You go to lean your head back onto my shoulder, and I let you. My left hand travels to your breast and kneads the flesh as my right hand circles your clit, slowly at first, but quickly building in tempo. Your breath quickens. I feel your chest rise and fall against me. I hear you whisper into the night air. You ask me to go inside you. Who am I to deny such a polite request?

I stop my movements on your clit and swiftly push into you. I hear you moan for the first time. The sound makes me weak. I thrust in and you shove your hips against my hand, hard. It's as if we've done this a thousand times, but it's actually still quite new. The way we start up a rhythm together, how easily we move in sync, it turns me on. My two fingers are in you, twisting a different way with each plunge, and I realize my breaths are coming just as sporadic as yours. I thrust in, and although the position is somewhat awkward, I relish the slight pain I feel in my wrist with each push. Your wetness coats my fingers. I can tell that you want to cling to my body behind you. You hold your upper back against my chest, while you grind your hips forward, wanting me to go deeper inside you with each plunge. Your head still rests on my shoulder, and I feel your lips briefly kiss my neck. Just that tiny touch drives me wild.

My rhythm quickens to a degree that I didn't think I could manage at this angle. Your loud cry into the air tells me you weren't expecting the sudden change in pace. I love that I surprised you. I feel your walls tightening and I don't want this to end. But then I think of how the night is young, and this doesn't have to be it. I can do things to surprise you for hours. I know you're so unbelievably close, and you'll hit your climax in only a few more thrusts. So I choose this moment to lean my head back, not losing any contact with your body, and I nudge your cheek with my nose. Your eyes fly open. The lustful glaze you have is amazing. I drop my lips to yours, finally, for a heated, passionate, fervent kiss. I want you to know that it's me fucking you, not your wife, or your prior mistress. It's me whose tongue clashes with yours over and over again, until your tongue suddenly stops moving and you pull away to take a large gasp of air. I know you're there, at that moment we've both been craving. I push into you as hard as I can, and the scream you let out causes my body to erupt in chills.

I let you ride out your orgasm, holding your body against mine, supporting your weight. I continue to move swiftly in and out of you, still kneading your breast in my left hand. And when you finally release a soft whimper, I slow, and stop. I pull my fingers out. I bring them to my lips. I lick your liquid clean and settle my hand back where it started, on your hip. Your breathing becomes normal. You slowly open your eyes and look at me. I see such torture in those deep blue orbs. You have so many levels to who you are as a person. I only wish that you'd let me in further, deeper than just the physical realm that we've become accustomed to in these past few days. But I can't force you to let me in, as much as I may wish that I could.

Pushing my solemn thoughts aside, I recall that this night is still young. If I have any say in how the rest of these hours pass, I'll make sure this isn't the only time that I feel you quiver against me.


	4. Chapter 4

We never cuddle after. It's an unwritten rule between us. Right now is no different. You're on your stomach, arms under your head, right leg slightly bent. I'm sitting up though, resting against the wall. I'm pretty sure you're awake, but you're pretending to be asleep. That's another silent thing between us, how you pretend to be asleep when I know you're not. I don't know why you do it. Perhaps you think I'll want to talk, to connect in a way that I know we're not allowed to. But that's not true. I don't want to talk to you. Well, I do, but I know that the repercussions of opening up to you are just too much to handle. If I truly speak my mind about how much you've come to mean to me, I know you'll react badly. Thus, I don't have a desire to talk to you like you might think I do. And so, while you may believe it's necessary to pretend to be asleep, I know it's not.

After admiring your naked form for far longer than I should, I turn on my side to look out the window. The sun has just made itself known for the day. It's sunny, which is a rarity for Seattle. It's days like these that I wish I could go for walks with you outside. I wish we could take in the chilled breeze and the smell of the oncoming winter. It will only be a matter of days before the temperature drops and the ground begins to freeze. Sure, walks are still an option in the winter, but they're not the same.

Quietly, I dismantle myself from the warmth of our covers. I softly place a chair next to the window. I walk back over to the bed and cover your body with the thick blanket. I even tuck it under you slightly so you don't feel the cold air I'm about to let into the room. I grab the half empty pack of cigarettes on your nightstand, along with the lighter, and sit at the window. I open it just an inch or so, enough to allow the smoke to escape. I should probably put some clothes on so I don't freeze to death, but I feel oddly numb today. I don't think the cold will affect me.

I light up and inhale. I only smoked for a short period of time when I was a teenager. Since becoming a doctor, I've just never had the desire to pick the habit back up. I don't really know why I'm trying it out again now. Would it be so horrible if I just wanted to understand what you experience when you smoke? You're just as knowledgeable as I am about cigarettes and their horrible side affects, and yet you still do it. I don't know how long this has been a hobby for you, but something tells me it's new, possibly related to your marital separation. Plus, I don't recall you smelling like nicotine at any point until recently. It's not a scent that can be easily disguised.

"Since when do you smoke?" Your voice permeates my thoughts. I look over at you momentarily before directing my sight back outside.

"Since when do you talk to me after sex?" The words slip from my lips before I can censor them and I actually flinch at my own comment. "Shit, I'm sorry. Pretend I didn't say that."

"It's okay. You have a point."

I don't look back at you while I smoke the rest of your cigarette. My legs are crossed and my arm is hanging over the top of the chair. Even though I can smell the winter breeze, mixed with the chemicals I'm inhaling, I don't feel it hit my exposed skin. I don't know why. Maybe this is finally getting to me, this relationship you and I are engaging in. It's not a relationship by any true definition of the word, except sexual. But there's no other term I can use to properly explain the situation I've gotten myself mixed up in. It's not a one-night stand, because this has been going on for many nights, and days. It's not a friends-with-benefits relationship, because we are not friends. We're not even strangers, you and I. I know all about your wife, your daughter, your plane crash, your affair, and even now, I'm learning about your loss of self. Maybe it would be easier if we were strangers. I doubt it, because even then I would fall for you just as hard as I've been falling for you. You are my painful, mind numbing, invigorating addiction. The only difference is that I wouldn't have to see you at the hospital, and that is a bittersweet difference. I love seeing you at work, and knowing how much I love seeing you is what ends up causing me more pain. You're off limits there, in just about every sense of the term. Even outside of work though, you're only somewhat available. You're broken, and you only allow me to claim a single broken shard of who you are. You won't let me help to put the pieces back together. You won't let me be more than this confused person stuck in limbo, constantly wanting more and yet never getting it.

I'm being pulled very strongly in two different directions. I want you, but I want all of you, not just these partially bare parts of who you are. Half of me wants to say goodbye to you, for the betterment of both of us. Yet there is another half of me, gluing my body to this chair, smoking your cigarette, if only to cling to the familiar scent of you later. It's this half of me that's dragging me down. It's this half of me that won't let me break away from our dysfunctional bond. And it's this half of me that I kind of hate. I wish I was strong enough to walk away. Which turns me to another point entirely. This unhealthy association we have, it's not just my fault. It's your fault too.

You know, without a doubt, that I have feelings for you. You know that I'm more involved than I should be. Despite knowing this, you still continue to call on me for a physical connection. You know damn well that I'm not strong enough to say no, because of how strongly I feel about you, and you're taking advantage of that. You should never have kissed me that night. You should never have text me the following evening. You should never have done what you did. Of course, you're at odds with yourself just as much as I'm at odds with myself, aren't you? Half of you wants an easy, happy life with your wife, while the other half of you wants to cut her from your mind while you find a new sort of happiness with someone else. I suppose I can't be angry with you anymore than I'm angry with myself. We're similar, you and I, in how we're both being slowly pulled apart, unable to stop the miserable separation from happening. We are so similar, and yet so different. It's unbearably ironic.

"I should get going," I say quietly, not actually moving. I'm at the end of your cigarette.

"Do you have to be at the hospital?" You ask, still lying on the bed.

"Yeah." It's a lie. I don't have to be at the hospital today. But I should be. I should be concerned about my reputation there, my work ethic. I should be more concerned about that right now than the thought of you lying naked only a few feet from me.

"Okay."

And that's that. You don't say another word, and neither do I. I stub out the cigarette on the ledge and close the window. I stand and avoid eye contact with you as I put the chair back to where it was.

Slowly, I move about the room, gathering my discarded clothes. I don't look at you while I cover my body. I don't know why, but right now, the thought of seeing you in all of your gorgeous glory, not preventing me from leaving this room… I feel like it could break me.

After a quick clean up in the restroom, I take a breath before re-entering the bedroom area. I grab my purse and go to the door. I open it before my weak half forces me to stay. And then, God help me, you say my name.

"Leah."

My eyes close. A chill runs through me. My teeth clench and my hand forms a fist. Don't turn around, I tell myself. Don't do it. But of course, I'm not strong enough to walk away from you. You bring me such pain, and yet you're the only one who can relieve me of this anguish. Dr Robbins, you are my ultimate downfall.

My eyes meet yours. There isn't a damn word that can describe the emotion that practically cripples me when I look at you. You are agonizingly beautiful. The color of your eyes, the expression that you throw at me, entices me even from a distance. You are the essence of captivating. Even now, having looked at you when I knew I shouldn't have, I'm left standing stock-still. It's terrifying, daunting even, how profoundly you can control me. You utter one single syllable, and I know with just that sound, that I'm at your mercy. Don't you see, how I look at you with such astounding marvel? Don't you see how good it could be, to have someone care for you as I do? If I could worship you, I would. I would drop down on my knees and show you just how astonishingly flawless you are. Shit, I'll show you now.

I drop my purse, slam the door shut once more, and take large strides to quickly close the distance between us. I rip the blanket from your body and grip your hips with my hands. I may not be the strongest person alive, but with how much I want you in this moment, I don't think anything could stop me from pulling you harshly to the edge of the bed. You gasp in shock, not expecting me to move your body so easily and quickly. I relish the sound and the expression you make.

I do exactly as I wanted as I drop down to my knees. For the first time, I move my head in between your thighs while never looking away from your striking gaze. We never do this, look at one another for longer than a few seconds while being intimate. This is a first, and I want you to feel the difference. I want you to see how good we can be, not broken and weak, but together and sure of it. You may not know what we can have, but I do, and I'll prove it.

I make a point of going slow with my mouth as my tongue travels up and down your folds. Your eyes flutter closed and I grasp your thighs harshly. You open your eyelids, sensing my need to have us connected through sight. You don't look away again.

I lose myself in you then, in the touch and the taste and the sounds that you alone possess. I savor every twitch that you make. I caress your thighs as only a lover does. I take my time in pleasuring you, because in a way, I'm pleasuring myself as well. I achieve my own sense of satisfaction just by fulfilling your needs. You could say I'm whipped, and I would readily agree.

I watch as your eyes change color and you struggle to keep our gaze connected. I run my left hand up your smooth stomach to reach your breasts. My fingers wrap around your nipple, gentle at first, and then pinching and twisting in the way that I know you love. Your moans fill the air, but with your eyes open, they seem quieter than during our other times. Perhaps, with your eyes open, you're more aware of your sounds, more self-conscious? I don't want you to be. I want you to feel free to cry out at any given moment, at any given sensation. I want to give you that freedom and that comfort. I want to give you everything.

Slowly, gradually, I increase the pressure of my tongue on you. You begin to rock seductively against me. Even this, how well we move together, amazes me. I've never been this in sync with someone before. Your back and forth sway quickens and I copy your speed. We become rushed and hurried then, as you squeeze your thighs together. I don't release my hold on your breast or the thrust of my tongue upon your most sensitive area. I cling to you as your eyes become the darkest that I've ever seen them. You start gasping for air. I watch your cheeks flush with heat. And finally, finally, you release our stare as you allow your head to fly back. I wish I could still look at your eyes as you hit your orgasm, but I know how hard it is to maintain eye contact during such an intense moment. So instead of revelling in your expression, I instead revel in the feeling of your body convulsing against me, all around me.

You tremble with such force that I'm actually taken aback. I don't stop my body from touching you in every available spot, as I want you to ride out each second of heightened sensitivity. A last tremor lurches through you as you release a final strangled cry. Everything but you is absolutely erased from my mind. Having you here like this, naked, spread out in front of me, completely and utterly exposed and satiated because of my own actions… there is nowhere else I'd rather be. This is it for me. You are it for me.

"Fuck, that was amazing," I hear you say. Yes, it was, and I'm glad you noticed. Before I can respond, our bubble of euphoria is rapidly interrupted by the sound of a cell phone. I know it's not mine, as mine is not set to volume. I regrettably watch as you hurriedly move away from me in search of the unwelcome sound. You answer the call and I simply sit quietly and listen to what you have to say.

It's Callie calling you, from what I can gather. It's nothing serious, but apparently she's calling about Sofia.

"Okay, I'll be right over." You hang up and hurry to grab your prosthetic from nearby. I watch as you very speedily place it on and jump up from the bed. You've gotten very good at that.

"I'm sorry, I need to go pick up Sofia. Callie needs to head in early and the day-care isn't open yet." You have yet to look at me, but I don't lose eye contact with your body as you rush around, sadly covering your recently naked form. Once you're all dressed, you collect your things and head to the door. With a quick look back at me, you display a minute smile.

"This was awesome. I'll catch up with you later." You don't wait for me to respond. You merely offer a fast wink before leaving me alone in your hotel room. No kiss or touch or connection of any sort, other than a fleeting acknowledgment of sexual satisfaction, and you leave me without a second thought.

I grab your remaining cigarettes and shuffle back to the window I was at only a short while ago. This time I open it all the way, not needing to worry about whether or not the breeze will make you cold. I see how many cigarettes are left in the pack and decide, what the hell, I may as well sit here and finish them off. It's not like there's anyone around to scold me about it.

Arizona, you may be it for me, but apparently I'm just not it for you.


	5. Chapter 5

Today is one of those days where you have absolutely no interest in talking. Most times, you at least say hello, ask me how I am, but today is not one of those times. You grab me in the hallway and drag me so quickly into an on-call room that I nearly trip over my own feet.

"I thought you said not at the hospital?" I'm able to get the words out only seconds before you press your lips against mine, effectively shutting me up.

"Are you complaining?" You ask, in between rushed kisses. I shake my head no. Obviously, I'll have you anytime, anywhere. I'm a masochist that way.

Your hands tear off my lab coat and then quickly rid me of my scrub top. I should be used to this rough version of you, this version that you don't outwardly show, but still, you often throw me for a loop.

"Take off your shoes," you instruct, your voice is thick and impassioned.

For a split second I wonder why you want me to remove my shoes before I push the thought aside and do as you say. I always want you to be without clothes, for our bodies to meld together in the nude, but I can tell that you won't be removing a single article during this particular round. It's disappointing.

When my shoes are kicked to the side, you tug my scrub pants down. With your prosthetic, you can't kneel as quickly as other people, but you can kneel if you're patient with the plastic limb's capabilities. Right now, you apparently want a particular thing to happen between us, because you carefully lower your body to the ground. Your knees support your weight, both bone and plastic material. You waste no time in grabbing me by the back of my thighs and pulling me toward you. And then, you do something that you've never done with me before. It's another first for us. You lower my panties and inhale the scent of my arousal.

You're not shy or bashful about your decision to take in my aroma. I want to feel self-conscious, and I probably should, but I don't. The sight of you kneeling before me, eyes closed, delighting in the smell that comes from my excitement, only makes me more turned on.

"Damn, I love that I cause your body to react this way," you whisper. I'm not sure if you expect me to respond, but I don't think I can. I want to remember this.

Gingerly, you bring yourself back to a standing position. You're fully clothed and I'm completely bare. But to be honest, I feel bare around you at any given time, clothed or not.

"Come here," you mutter, holding my hand and directing me to the corner of the room. There's a small table propped up against the wall. I can see where this is going. You stand behind me, your front to my back. I feel the rough material of your scrub top rub along my shoulder blades. If only you were topless, it could be your breasts I feel instead.

"Do you trust me?" You sigh against my ear, your hands roaming over me in an almost possessive manner.

"Yes," I respond, without hesitation.

"You need to speak up if you don't like what I'm about to do to you."

My stomach flips and my clit begins to throb. I wonder what you have in mind.

"Arizona," I can barely find my voice. "You can do anything to me." And my God do I mean it. If you were to spend the next 24 hours ravishing me, I would be the last person to stop you.

"Good. Because I want to claim you."

Your last syllable hits my ears only a second before you sink your teeth into my neck. Claim me? You aren't kidding. I draw in a sharp breath as my nerves wake up. I feel the pain that comes with such a bite, and it's mixed with yearning. You've never left a mark on me before, and never such a harsh one. You've marked me. The thought sends my libido raging. I never imagined you would do such a thing.

Very quickly, you shove me forward. You bend me so I'm on an angle. I place my hands down on the table for support. Your left hand slides under my long hair and grips my scalp. Your right hand slips lightly up my back, all the way to my shoulders, before swiftly scraping its way back down to my tailbone. I hiss, which causes you to moan. I can't see you, but I imagine you're peering down at me with the look that you often get when you're lost in the moment. It's an expression of uninhibited desire. And more than that, it's an expression of strength and control. I was right in the beginning, when I wondered about your control issues. From time to time, you definitely have a need for power, specifically power over me.

Your hand comes down to cup the right side of my ass. Without warning, you slap your palm against my skin. I cry out, completely not expecting such a move from you. You've never shown a desire to strike me before. But then, as I think about it, it kind of makes sense. You want to assert your strength over me, to show that you have command. What someone craves in their sexual life is often what they crave in their everyday life. You want to restore organization to the stability that you once had, have things like they were before, but you can't. So instead, you revert to this, to stripping me of my clothes and declaring me as yours by placing a mark on my skin. I understand it, and I like it much more than I should. Nonetheless, it can't possibly be healthy, right? You bring your hand down against me again, harder this time, and my internal question disappears. There can't be any rational thoughts right now, not with you slapping my ass in such an erotic way.

"Do you like this?" You lean over me, essentially pushing my head down on the wooden surface.

"Mmm." I lick my lips and close my eyes. You slap me a third time. My eyes immediately open.

"What was that?" You exhale along my neck, giving me chills.

"Yes!" I exclaim. "I like it."

"Good," you say, softly. "I like it too. Do you know what else I like?"

"What?" I mumble.

Your hand slides down from my now sore rear end to land in between my thighs. Your fingers dip into the immense amount of moisture there.

"I like how wet I make you. In fact, I love it."

"You do, you make me so wet."

"I know. I've noticed from the start. I haven't told you how much I enjoy it, knowing that I can effect someone that I barely know so intensely."

Your left hand trails down to the side of my neck and fastens itself around me. It's exciting, the sensation of your long, talented fingers squeezing me tightly. I can still breathe, and the pain is subtle, so it doesn't concern me so much as it turns me on. Instinctively, my hips thrust forward, trying to find some sort of friction. But of course, you're behind me, and I can't gain the friction that I'm pining for.

"What do you want, Leah? Do you want me to fuck you?"

Jesus, who are you? Are you actually Arizona, standing above me, pinning me roughly against this table? Are you actually the woman who smiles all day long to every person in this hospital, who makes jokes with the children and plays games with the toddlers? Is it really you speaking to me with vulgarities? Is it you causing the skin on my ass to turn red from your hits?

"Well?" You ask, placing the absolute softest kiss below my ear. How can you be so soft and tender, and yet so rough and violent at the same time?

"Yes." I gasp. "Fuck me Arizona."

With this, you promptly lunge your hips forward, pushing your hand against me and your fingers within me.

"Yes!" I yell loudly into the room. Straightaway, you pull your fingers out and place a hard blow to the same exact spot as before.

"Shh!" You whisper hotly into my ear. "I'm still an Attending at this hospital. I can't have anyone knowing what we're up to in here."

I nod my head and drive my hips backwards, hoping that you'll get the hint and enter me again. You do get the hint, and you're harsh in plunging back inside. There's a small amount of pain involved, which has never happened between us before now, but it seems to bring things to a different level. My body is more aware of every touch and movement. I find myself enjoying the pain, which is surprising to realize. I rotate back and forth, wanting to meet the intense pressure that your fingers bring about within me. You match my rhythm with ease.

"Does that turn you on Leah, that I'm an Attending?" I barely register your question, but I know that the answer is yes, that's what you want to hear. You want to know that this young, inept woman below you is at your beck and call. And let's be honest, I am. So I nod again, and you dig your nails into my neck.

"Say it. I want to hear you say it." Your fingers have a vice-like grip on me, so it's hard to respond, but I force my vocal chords to cooperate.

"It turns me on, that you're an Attending, that you're more experienced than me. But," I have to swallow before continuing. "It's you Arizona. Everything that has to do with you overwhelms me, no matter your age or experience." My voice fills with emotion. "It's just you."

Your hold on my neck suddenly loosens and your right hand stills inside me. I groan in frustration.

"Why'd you stop?" And then something happens with you, a shift of some sort. You drop my body on the table and remove yourself from me. You step back and I turn my head to see what's wrong. When my eyes take you in, you don't look like you. You look lost, confused, baffled. Then I watch as your confusion transforms into disgust and revulsion.

"My God, what was I doing to you?" You stumble backward, and I rush to steady you. I hold your hips and capture your gaze.

"Hey, Arizona, you didn't do anything bad. What you were doing, it wasn't bad." I shake my head at you. It was anything but bad.

"Yes, yes it was," you say, avoiding my eyes. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"No, don't you dare apologize." I grab your chin and force you to look at me. "That was by far the hottest thing I've ever been involved in. And frankly, I've never wanted you more than I want you right now."

You just look at me, mouth slightly ajar, a frown covering your features.

"You liked what I was doing? I was hurting you."

"Yes, you were. And it felt _so_ good." My eyes close briefly as I allow the memory of your body pushing me down under you to flow through me. It really did feel good.

"I don't believe you. You were just doing it for me, to appease me." You move aside and walk past me toward the door.

"No, I didn't. Please don't go yet." I step closer to you and rest my hand on your shoulder. "Will you just look at me for a second?"

You slowly turn around and face me.

"Okay so maybe at first, I was doing it for you. But you should take that as a compliment. I love the things you do to me, every time, so I wanted to see where you were taking me this time around. And then, I wasn't doing it for you anymore. I was doing it because it was ridiculously hot. I need you to understand that."

You look at me with your striking blue eyes, filled with something I can't quite describe. After a quiet moment, you speak up again.

"We agreed not to get naked at work. I'm sorry I didn't follow that." You raise your hand and skim your fingertips over my neck. "And I'm sorry I did this to you. It looks painful. I broke the skin."

You just won't stop looking sad, and apologizing. So I do the only thing I can think of. I place both of my hands on your cheeks and swiftly capture your mouth in the most passionate kiss I can manage. I place my entire emotional landscape into the kiss, in hopes that you will just shut up already, and let this go, because maybe, just maybe, you'll feel how much I enjoyed it.

When I eventually pull back, I lean my forehead against yours. We don't normally do the whole emotional kissing thing, but I think now can be an exception to the rule.

"Before I pulled you in here, I fell." You say this with your eyes cast down.

"You fell? Are you okay?" Your confession surprises me. You don't normally tell me things like this. I wonder why you choose to now.

"Yeah, of course. I just… for one second, I forgot that I have this fake leg, and I was about to miss the elevator. So I started to run, and I lost my balance. This prosthetic isn't meant for running."

I nod my head. I get it now.

"Do you see why you came in here then, wanting what you wanted?"

"What do you mean?" You appear confused.

"It's obvious, with how much of a control freak you are." I actually chuckle, my mood lightening. "You lost control of your situation outside of the elevator, and you wanted to regain it as quickly as possible. So you found me." I shrug and grin at you. I don't always understand you, but right now, I can read you like a book.

You're silent for a while, and then you ask me the kind of question that I've been wanting you to ask for weeks now.

"Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?" This causes my grin to grow into a smile. How badly I want that, to just spend time with you, in a non-sexual, friendly way. But I know I can't.

"We decided not to do the whole food and drink thing, remember? Seems too much like a date. And besides, I should really probably check on my patients." I glance at the time. "But tonight, are you free?"

"No," you move your head from side to side. "I have Sofia tonight. How about tomorrow, my place?"

"Sounds perfect." I grab my clothes from around the room and begin to redress. Instead of leaving through the door like I expect you to, you instead hover around it, with your hand resting on the handle.

"Leah?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we can try this whole dominant thing again tomorrow night then, when we're not here?"

I see the slightest of smirks upon your lips. To see you smile, after being so thrown off guard by your own actions, is a great sight.

"Count on it."

You glance over at me one last time before exiting the room. I watch you go with both contentment and heartbreak. You want to try the whole rough thing again, which is thrilling. But you also want to have coffee with me, which I can't allow, no matter how much I want to say yes. This is only temporary, something I have to remind myself of every day. Eventually, you'll want to move back in with your wife and your daughter. They have so much more to offer you than I do, and I accept that. It's just that it makes me sad, the idea of letting you go after all the things that we've experienced together. Hell, we experienced something pretty powerful just now, and we got through it. What you and I have, it certainly isn't a tale of love or romance, but it is a tale of fervor and longing. And honestly, I think that's something that shouldn't be dismissed.


	6. Chapter 6

I asked you over an hour ago if you would join me at Joe's for a drink. You turned me down. You were polite about it, more or less, but you said no. And yet there you are, sitting at the bar, presumably at the request of the person sitting next to you, your wife.

I don't know why you're here with her. I don't know what you're talking about over there, quietly amongst yourselves, heads bowed. All I can assume is that it has something to do with Sofia. From what I've gathered, that's all the two of you discuss anymore. But why was she able to get you here, and not me? You just don't see me, not like I want you to.

"You're staring."

"Huh?" I look toward the voice sitting across from me, Stephanie.

"You're staring at her."

I could deny it, but I know it's true. How can I not stare at you? You have a hold over me that I both love and hate. What's ironic is how you've done so little, and yet captivated me so strongly. I get that I become attached quite easily in most relationships, but this isn't a relationship. And the way I feel about you is so much stronger than I can describe, because it's overpowering. It's more intense than what I've felt for others in the past. Your words linger in my mind for hours, days. Your movements catch my attention from a distance. Your smile brings about the most delightful feelings from deep within. Your scent makes me want to drown in everything that there is of you. And your touch, drives me wild. Yes, I become attached too fast, too soon, too simply. But it's more than that with you. I like who you are as a person, both separate from me and with me. I don't use the word 'perfect' very often, but that's what it comes down to. You're perfect, in every sense of the word.

"I know, I can't help it," I say, glancing at Stephanie and then peering down at my drink.

"You can help it. You just don't look at her. Simple as that."

I tilt my head.

"Simple as that? Would you feel that way if it was Jackson sitting over there, drinking with April, and ignoring you?"

"That's not the same. Jackson and I are together. You and Dr Robbins aren't together, you're just fooling around."

"Even if it's just 'fooling around,' what if you and Jackson were just 'fooling around' and he was over there talking to his ex? How would you feel then?" I ask her, already knowing the answer.

"Okay, so I wouldn't like it, I'll give you that. But if we weren't official, if we weren't exclusive, then I wouldn't have the right to be upset."

"I don't have the right, which is exactly the point Stephanie." I pause and take a drink. "I know that I don't have the right to be upset, to be jealous, but I still am. And I don't want to be. I want to be strong enough and determined enough to either demand more from her, or walk away from what we're doing. And I just don't have that confidence."

"Hey." You place your hand over my glass to stop me from taking another gulp and to grab my attention. "You're in your second year of residency. You're a kick-ass surgeon. And more than that, you're a self-respecting woman that deserves to be treated for what you are: thoughtful, compassionate, hardworking. I mean, most days you're at the hospital before I am, that's how badass you are."

"I'm normally only there early because Arizona goes in early," I mutter, dropping my head.

"Oh God. Leah, snap out of this! You know damn well that you're worthy of more than just a quick screw in the dark, so act like it! Man up and grow up. Be fierce, be intimidating. Stop acting helpless and needy, because you're not."

I'm quiet. I don't know what to say. I want to be those things. I just don't know how, when it comes to you.

Stephanie removes her hand and leans back in her chair.

"Well you should be happy now anyway; it looks like Dr Torres isn't sticking around."

She nods toward the bar and I follow her gaze. I watch Callie walk out, only to then direct my eyes right back to you. I see you close your eyes and drop your head into your hand. You sit like that for a second before shaking your head silently to yourself and then downing the rest of your drink. You call the bartender over and request something. I continue to watch as he places two shots in front of you. You proceed to drink them straight, with no time in between each. And then, you follow the path that Callie took to the exit. You walk out, and I'm left staring at the wooden door as it closes behind you. With you gone, the room suddenly feels colder. Even not talking to you or being close to you, knowing that you're nearby is somewhat calming. I like having you in the same vicinity as me, even if you don't so much as notice my presence. And now, I just want you to come back.

"Clearly, they're not happy," Stephanie says to me, finishing her drink. "I'm gonna get a refill. You want one?"

I look down at the remaining liquid in my glass. This is it, right here, my turning point. I can choose to leave you alone, to force you out of my life, in this very second. You just walked out of this room, and I have two options: I can either sit here with my friend and relearn how to enjoy being single, or I can follow you out into the night and continue down this destructive path that I've been laying for weeks now. This is it. This is my moment.

I swirl my glass. I admire the condensation that's accumulated over the last few minutes. I watch the movement and the sway of the amber liquid. The color matches your skin when the sun hits you at just the right angle. In an odd way, I see you there, in the sporadic rhythm of the alcohol. I see your strengths and your weaknesses. I see how you're so disoriented among everything around you. You have hardly anyone on your side, batting for you. Like this luke-warm drink, your once-confident self has dwindled into the shell of your former person. You don't know who you are or what to do with your time. You don't know what you want. You only know pain, loss, and the bittersweet release that comes with submerging yourself in a distraction. I'm your distraction, and I know that. And that's when it hits me. You're inside me. You've meandered your way into my fucking veins. I see you in the smallest of things, like this drink. This is my single moment of clarity, my one chance to cut you from my emotions. And I know, without a doubt, that I will never be capable of walking away from you. My desire for you is my absolute flaw. You are the knot in my stomach, surrounded by both fascination and attraction. You are a vicious fixation, gravely caught up in my thoughts and decisions. It may be pathetic, but it's the unfortunate, undoubtable truth.

"No," I say, glancing up at Stephanie as I stand and push in my chair. "I'm gonna head out."

"Leah, really?" You look at me with exhaustion and a slight tinge of annoyance. "Don't do it. Don't go after her."

I shrug my shoulders, giving in.

"I'll see you at work." I swig the remainder of my drink and swiftly turn on my heel. I want to find you, to see what you're doing, even though I know I shouldn't. To hell with my heart. If it's going to be hurt, I might as well damage it beyond repair, and enjoy the ride along the way.

Once outside, I relish the smell of the city. It's quite cold now, especially at night. Winter is beginning to settle in. I take a look around to see not a single person nearby. I lean against the corner of the building. I feel unsure, bleak. I was eager to stumble upon you, somewhere. I haven't had my fix of you in hours, and since you haven't had your fix of me either, I was hoping you'd see me and cave in to your utmost desires. And then, after a moment of silence, I sense it. I take a deep breath and there it is, that very faint scent of nicotine.

I round the corner of the building to see you a few feet away, leaning against another building, looking up at the sky. I remember the last time I caught you outside at night, looking up. It's a good memory. But this time, it doesn't feel the same. You look haunted like before, yes, except the expression in your eyes is more distant. You seem emotionless, apathetic. Or perhaps that's just the face you put on now when you're outside of the hospital: frigid and reserved. I'm not sure which it is, intentional or truthful. I want to find out.

"Hey," I whisper into the night.

You look at me, completely devoid of feeling. I walk over and lean against the same wall that your back is resting on. Neither of us say anything for long minutes. I follow the movement of your hand as you make quick work of your cigarette. I wonder when you will quit them again, if ever. I observe you as you drop the stub to the ground and step on it. You quietly reach into your pocket and remove the packet from within. You open the lid and stare down at its empty contents.

"I'm out," you say, not looking at me. So you're out of cigarettes, your harmful choice of diversion. What will you do now, go buy more? You should head home, get inside, warm up. Something tells me you won't do that though, at least not yet.

"So use me." The words literally fly from my mouth.

"What?" You finally look at me. To see those blue eyes hitting me is like willingly drinking poison, welcoming it into my system. I welcome you into my system. I invite you, I beg you, to invade me and find safe haven in what I have to offer.

"I'm your drug, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, I'm the thing you use to distract yourself from everything else. You're out of cigarettes… so use me instead." I turn to face you, my left shoulder pressing against the harsh brick.

"Leah, that's not-" I interrupt you.

"Yes, it is. That's exactly what you do with me." I pause to gather myself. "But I don't mind."

I step closer to you and grab your hand. It's cold, but warm at the same time. Slowly, gently, I pull it under my shirt. You may have a stronger effect on me than I have on you, but I do know that you love the feeling of my body on yours. Something about the sensation intrigues you, entices you. So I use this to my advantage.

"I'm here, Arizona. So use me."

I drag your hand up and place it over my breast. Damn, the feeling of your hand, your specific hand, cupping me is so delectable. I would live only to feel your hands on me, if that were an option.

I drop my head back slightly and allow my eyes to drift closed. With my hand on yours, I ruthlessly grip myself. I want it to be you callously grabbing me, taking me for all I'm worth. And when I part my lips and release a guttural sound, I know I've reeled you in. Here I am, giving you what you want: control, distraction, a body to wield and claim. With that sound, I know I've hooked you, because you push your body so quickly against mine that I have no choice but to gasp in shock. I love this side of you, the ravenous, hungry you. Because you're hungry for me.

You crash our lips together. You slide your hands under my bra and twist my nipples to the point of making me cry out loud. My groin clenches and arousal surges through me. Your tongue pushes against mine and searches my mouth for something that I have no clue of. You leave one hand on my breast while you allow the other to roam up and down. You scrape your nails along every patch of skin, and you seem to delight in the sounds that I make. At one point, you pull my hair, essentially exposing my neck. You bear down on me, nipping and sucking at some of the most sensitive areas on my body. You lick and graze your teeth along my heated surface. I moan into your ear. I don't know what you want to do to me exactly, because your hands don't go in any particular downward direction for the longest time. Instead, you linger above where I'm growing wet. You hands move from my neck to my shoulders to my back to my hips, and up again. Your nails repeatedly scratch my stomach, a part of my body that I know you love. Your hands clutch my hips and then slide under my jeans to seize my ass in your palms. You squeeze, hard. I merely release a loud breath, which must frustrate you, because you squeeze harder. The pain quickly becomes luxurious. I groan, and I think I satisfy your need to cause me to make more noise when finally, you move your hands to my front.

You begin to undo my belt buckle, something that you don't normally have to do when I'm wearing other outfits. The sound of the buckle coming undone, the metal unclasping, causes my stomach to tighten in excitement. I know what your hands will be doing in only seconds. Watching your eyes go dark and your hands hastily undo the leather material makes me want you even more. But at the same time, there's something amazing about watching you desire me, crave me. Or in the very least, you're craving what's underneath these jeans, past the belt, and you want it out of your way in a hurry.

Your fingers unfasten the button and unzip the metal, and I close my eyes in anticipation of feeling you slide inside. You do just that. Your skillful fingers touch the moisture that is literally pouring from within me. You suddenly grunt against me, your mouth coming close to my ear.

"You're so wet," you whisper, obviously pleased and very conscious of your control over me in so many ways. I know I'm wet. This is what you do to me, every damn time. I merely mutter a small response in agreement, needing to savor the feeling of your capable fingers exactly where I want them. Because the truth is, I know this will be fleeting, this exact experience, and this connection that we share. Even caught up in the overwhelming lust that we're both reveling in, I know this thing between us will eventually end. And the thought nearly breaks me. So instead, I focus on what it's like to have you this wrapped up in me. Your scent is still like no other. Even with your recent addiction to cigarettes, with just a small whiff, I can easily take in the freshness that your body radiates. It's just one more thing that I'll miss about you.

Your fingers swiftly thrust into me. I cry out yet again, probably much louder than I should considering our location, but it's hard to control myself when it's you touching me. I feel your lips meet my neck, and I swear they're forming a smile. You really do love causing me to be loud.

In seconds, my hips are moving hard in time with your advances. I never knew I liked it rough until I met you. Or is it that I just love everything that has to do with our encounters, because it's you and not someone else? You drive into me again and again. I begin to release a series of sounds and I know I'm being too blatant, so I grab your body and pull it as close as I possibly can. I drop my head into your neck. I smash my mouth against your skin in hopes of drowning out my noise. It works, but only slightly.

"Bite me," you suddenly utter into the air.

I swear I hear you wrong, so I look up at you, silently questioning. You merely glimpse at me before using one of your hands to yank me back down to where I was. I must have heard you right, so I do as you say. I place my teeth on your skin and press down. The sound you release causes my walls around your fingers to suddenly spasm. There is no other sound I'd rather hear than you moaning because of something I've done to you. Wanting to hear you again, I really dig my teeth into you this time, knowing that there's a good chance I'll have left a mark after this is all over. Sure enough, I achieve the desired result. You literally yell out as your head flies back and the fingers you're fucking me with shove into me in an even more brutal way. I know I shouldn't enjoy the sensation, but I love it.

I pull your neck back down to me and begin assaulting it. The harder I bite you, dig into you, the harder you thrust into me. Your thumb slides along my clit when I hit a particularly soft spot, and I take the hint to continue there.

We both lose ourselves in the bliss that only comes from allowing lust to show itself. You stroke my clit and put pressure inside me at the same time, in the most remarkable way. In spite of us both being entirely clothed, I know that you're allowing me to be close to you when you won't let anyone else in. I cherish your decision, even if you have ulterior motives.

When I let out a distinct groan, you know that I'm close. Recognizing this, you decide to show me just who has control over my body. You continue your jerks in and out of me with one hand, while your other starts to leave the most delicious trails along my skin with your nails. My thighs tighten and I cling to you in every way that I can. Just as my eyes clench and my breath stills in expectation of my oncoming orgasm… you stop all movements against me. My eyes want to shoot daggers at you, but all I can do is look at you with a sort of forlorn, powerless expression.

"Arizona?" My voice cracks. I'm on the edge, completely at your mercy. And my God, from the way you're looking at me, you're loving it.

"Tell me what you want Leah," you stare at me, unblinking. "Tell me, right now, what you want me to do to you."

So badly wanting you to give me release, I merely shake my head slightly before swiftly pulling you in by your neck and placing my lips at your ear.

"Put your fingers inside me." I wait for you to follow my instruction. You do, and then I continue. "Place your thumb on my clit, like before." You do. "Arizona, I want you to fuck me like you own me, like you're the only one that can give me what I want, because it's true." I pull back and look at you, at the dark blue of your eyes that I've come to adore. "You're the only one I want. I want _your_ fingers inside me." I pause while you enter me, and then I continue. "I want your breath to hit my skin and your body to heat up at the thought of consuming me." I start to move my hips, because your fingers are motionless within me. "Match my rhythm." I wait until we're in sync. "Yes, God yes. Don't stop."

I turn my face away from you, feeling naked and vulnerable after speaking so openly. You won't have it.

"Keep talking," you say.

I almost want to laugh, because I know how much this is getting you off, watching me express how insanely I desire you. You need this, you need someone to tell you that you are literally everything to them. And as unfortunate as it may be for me, it's the complete truth. You're everything to me. So, I answer your request by opening my mouth and letting words fall from my lips until I can no longer form rational thought. I tell you to fuck me, because I love the way you feel inside me. I tell you how much I love that it's you pushing me against this building. I tell you that I love that you enjoy overpowering me, because I enjoy it too. I tell you that you are so goddamn beautiful, breathtaking even, and that I have trouble thinking when I'm around you. I tell you to push harder into me, to make me scream. I tell you not to stop, to make my body spasm against you. And so, that's what you do. You fuck me as I want you to, with my words filling our ears and your erotic sighs enclosing us in nothing but heat and grinding and an incredible amount of eroticism. The world is lost, because right now, it's just you and me, and the sounds of my body reacting to yours. It's extraordinary. You're extraordinary.

Eventually, I know the bubble we've put ourselves in needs to be punctured, so when my orgasm passes, I gingerly move my hips so that your fingers leave me empty. I always hate that feeling of loss, of losing you after having had you so close. I notice you looking away from me, farther away than normal after sex, so I move my head to catch your view. You make eye contact with me and after a long silence, you open your mouth to slowly speak the most agonizing words.

"You're falling for me, but I'm not falling for you."

You glance down at the ground and step back. I don't even move or attempt to re-buckle my belt. I just look at you, wondering why you've said such a thing, and why now? Is this it, was this our last time together? I don't want it to be. I really don't want it to be. What can I do to make you reconsider us, to allow us to continue what we're doing? I'll do just about anything to be able to prolong this detrimental association, if only I can figure out how.

"I know that," I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. You look at me with pity.

"You know that? Then why do you let us carry on, if you know it'll never be what you want?"

I take a deep breath to calm both my body and my thoughts. I leisurely compose my clothes and my belt and place my hands in my pockets.

"I know it'll never be what I really want it to. But I also know that we both get something out of this. So when you want to break it off, you'll just have to tell me, and I'll go. It's as easy as that. And until that happens, until that day, I want to take advantage of every second I can get with you." I gradually move a little closer to your standing form. "I'm not in love with you Arizona, and I'm not going to ask you for something that I know you can't give. Okay?"

You peer at me, seemingly studying my face, for a long quiet moment. I'm nervous for what you have to say. I don't want you to turn me down, not yet.

"You really do like me."

"You have no idea." Gently, I smile at you. "I know what I'm getting myself into. Trust me."

Cautiously, you smile back at me, but you stay quiet. I tentatively take your hand in mine and begin to walk out of the dark shadows that we've been dwelling in. You follow. I expect you to remove your hand from mine, but surprisingly, you don't.

"You want to come back to my room?" You ask.

I glance at you. Gone is your sullen demeanor and your morose atmosphere. Instead, I see a smirk upon your lips. This is exactly why I know I should persist with this sexual relationship we're embarking on, because you need me, at least for now. When your life brings you down, I've proven that I can bring you back up. It may not be deep, what we have, and I know that. But in the very least, you satisfy me and I help to pacify you. Maybe I'll even get you to quit those damn cigarettes, if I offer you enough sex. And let's face it, that's a goal I can most definitely get on board with.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews! I appreciate the time you take in posting your opinions.

On another note, I have no medical knowledge, so please forgive any errors that I've made in this following chapter.

* * *

So I lied. I am in love with you. I'm ridiculously in love with you. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. Every time I look at you, think of you, hear your voice, I ache. You're under my skin and in my bones and just stuck in my head at any given moment. It's you damn it, it's you that I love, and I wish I didn't.

I wonder where you are now, as I sit in the NICU, watching over my patient. She's a "tiny human," as you would so accurately describe her, except she's the tiniest human I've ever laid my eyes on. She's premature. She was shoved into this world far too soon, too early for her little body to support her. As I look down at this little girl, I wonder if you've laid your eyes on her yet, and what you think of her predicament. Basically, everything I do comes back to you and makes me wonder about you. It's painful. But I welcomed this pain, and in a way, I still do.

I glance at the clock on the wall. My shift is over. I should go home, spend a night alone with nothing but my thoughts. I should learn how to enjoy personal time just as much as I enjoy 'us' time, even though I don't think I ever will. Being with you is better than being alone, hands down.

Quietly, so as not to disturb the little one, I stand and head to the open door. I lean against the archway for a moment and look down on her. Even though she's fighting a battle right now to survive, this premature baby looks peaceful. She's lost in slumber. If only being awake could be as equally peaceful. With a final glance at her closed eyes, I walk out into the hallway. I'm only a few steps from the doorway when I suddenly hear the alarming sound of a monitor going off. I immediately turn back around and look at the preemie. I check her vitals. Something's wrong.

The baby is having trouble breathing. A nurse comes running into the room. I order her to page Dr Karev or you, or both. I don't know who's on call or who's the closest, but either way, I could use the backup. I hurry to the girl's bedside and grab my stethoscope. I check her heartbeat and the sound of her lungs. I look at the monitor again. She needs to be intubated. I've never intubated a baby this little. I don't know if I can do it. This time I order the nurse to page any Pediatric Attending on call, not just Dr Karev or you. She does as I ask.

I rush to a nearby drawer, knowing that the endotracheal tubes are stored within. I pull the drawer open with a little too much force and it pops out of the cupboard. To hell with it. I heave the drawer up and place it on one of the chairs in the room. I have to choose one. I have to choose the proper size tube for this extremely tiny human. How the hell am I supposed to know? I look back over at the monitor. Her vitals are falling. She needs this intubation, and fast. Shit. My hands are starting to shake. This cannot be happening. All I see in front of me are a multitude of plastic tubes, all melding together. I swivel my eyes between the preemie and the tubes, unsure of which one to grab. I have to try one, and fast.

"What's happening?" I look up to see you rushing in. You take a single look at the monitor and know immediately what to do. You come over to me. "She needs an intubation. What's the problem?"

"I don't know- I don't know which one to choose. She's small. So small." My voice drifts and I glance back and forth between the baby, the tubes, and you.

"Murphy, pull yourself together." You grab my shoulder and give it a light squeeze. "You can do this."

"I-I don't know if I can. I don't know which one." You force me to look at you and I see that you're alert but also calm. You're good at keeping your head during stressful situations.

"Use your instincts. Which one do you think will work? What's the first you one thought of?"

I look down. I scan them. I eventually point at one, doing exactly as you say, following my initial reaction.

"Yeah, that's correct," you say. "Now hurry, she's low on oxygen."

"You want me to do it?! Why can't you? You're right here." I exclaim, grabbing the tube and going to the girl's bed. I stand behind her, as I would for any other intubation.

"Leah, you can do this. I know you can. Just visualize the vocal cords and pass through them to create an airway." You see my shaking hands. "Stay calm. Settle yourself. You have enough knowledge and experience to do this. And I'm here if you need help, even though I know you won't." I look at you wide-eyed and hesitant. You nod your head assuredly. "You can do this."

With you standing there, calmly directing me, telling me to breathe and relax, I actually intubate the baby successfully. Within seconds, her vitals increase and normalize. I repeatedly check her stats for a few minutes while you watch. Eventually, the sound of your chuckling brings me out of my trance, and I pull the stethoscope from my ears to look at you.

"Why are you laughing?" Involuntarily, I match your smile. I truly love how you look when your eyes light up like this.

"You're checking her vitals like crazy. She's okay now. You can step back and let the machines take over."

"Are you sure? I mean, better to be safe, right?" I look at the monitor for the umpteenth time.

"Leah, you did good. She's in the clear. Now let her sleep." You smirk at me and shake your head while heading toward the door. I follow you, feeling somewhat unsure, not wanting to leave the girl alone. Without looking back, you say, "Don't worry. The monitors will alert the nurses if something goes wrong, and they'll page us if that happens."

"If you say so," I mutter softly, still reluctant to leave her side.

"Leah," you say, turning to face me in the hall. "You should feel excited right now. You saved that tiny human's life. You did that- not me, you. You should be feeling pretty hardcore."

Slowly, my mouth turns up to form a small grin.

"Well, I do sort of feel excited. I mean, it's kind of a high, what just happened in there." You agree, nodding your head and looking at me with what I think is a sense of pride.

"You were great. It was awesome to see you step up. You just need to keep your head still during circumstances that make you nervous. You need to know that you're more than capable of handling it. Just push out the noise around you and remember to focus."

"I think I can do that. Thanks for helping me."

"No problem."

"Hey, are you even on call tonight? I had Dr Karev paged too, but you got here first."

"No I'm not, but I've been keeping an eye on a few patients so I was just down the hall when I heard the commotion. I was able to respond fast."

"So," I speak quietly, almost shyly. "Are you going to stay here at the hospital til morning, or head home?"

You give me a sly look and lower your voice.

"Why, are you looking to get lucky?"

I notice your playfulness so I shoot a devious glance right back in your direction.

"Are you?" I raise my eyebrow, giving you a very quick once over. You laugh out loud, which makes me unusually happy.

"I suppose I could head home and keep my pager on me." You look around the NICU, seeing who's within earshot. There's no one nearby, so you lean in and whisper in my ear. "You're welcome to meet me there."

And with that, you throw me a last smirk before heading off to where I assume the Attending's locker room is located. With a light jump in my step, I go the opposite way toward the elevator, with intentions of getting changed downstairs. Just as I'm about to press the button, something occurs to me. The hospital is nearly empty, because it's practically the middle of the night. And we've never fooled around in the Attending's locker room before… I wonder if we could now?

I turn on my heel and go right back toward where you were only a minute ago. I round a few corners and sure enough, I spot you heading into a room down the hall. I speed up and open the door only seconds after you close it. You glance over your shoulder at me with a surprised expression.

"Hey, what are you doing following me in here?" You still seem in high spirits as you give me a curious look. I love how content you are right now, in this very moment. I want you to be like this all the time.

"Um," I allow my words to linger in the air as I peer around the room. I don't see anyone but us occupying the space. "I thought maybe we could, you know…"

I step in close to you. You glance nervously at the door.

"Leah, I'm not too sure we should-" I cut you off by rapidly removing my scrub top and tossing it aside. Wearing nothing but a bra underneath, your eyes waste no time in dropping to my cleavage.

"Come on, no one's here. It could be fun."

You lick your lips.

"Fine, but not here. Let's go to the back of the room. If anyone sees us…" You shake your head, silently informing me that the consequences could be dire.

I kiss your jaw.

"So let's be quick."

I roughly grab the waist of your scrub pants and pull you forward. Our lips meet in the loveliest of kisses, fast and hurried, but not abrasive like our last few times. Never allowing our lips to part, you lead me to a particularly private area of the room. Of course, private doesn't mean closed off, so the possibility that someone could walk in on us is still a reality.

There's a chair nearby, a plush, leather chair that's placed against a desk. I see the chair as a wonderful opportunity.

"Sit down," I whisper. You glance behind you at the chair and do I as say. I proceed to straddle you, placing my legs around your waist. If looks could kill, I swear the unadulterated stare you give me now would easily stop my heart from beating. I think you like this position. I like it too; it reminds me of our first time together.

I slide my hands under your scrub top and slowly pull it up. You raise your arms. I remove it from your body. I drop it to the ground and then I admire your exposed skin. I love how your breasts look, contained within that sexy lace bra. In fact, I just love your breasts in general. I mean, I _love_ them. They're the perfect shape and size, and the way you react when I caress them turns me on to a ridiculous degree. Your nipples are fairly sensitive, which I also quite enjoy. Wanting to touch them and taste them, I use one hand to deftly remove your bra while I place soft kisses along your neck. This may very well be the gentlest of our encounters. I don't know if it's good or bad, but I'm certainly taking pleasure in the tender persistence that we seem to be building.

With your breasts freed from their confines and your body bare from the waist up, I take you in. Your hair is slightly curled today. It hangs around your face beautifully. Your eyes are a brighter blue than normal, but your pupils are large, indicating your desire. I silently question if my pupils are just as large, or larger. You always arouse me to extremes, which makes me wonder.

I feel your soft hands skim up and down my own naked back. I sense your nails touch my skin, but you don't scratch me or scrape me like normal. I don't know why. Instead, you very leisurely pull me closer to you while you cause goose bumps to erupt across the areas that your hands slide over. I nibble lightly at the skin below your ear, and I feel you unclasp my bra. Never breaking away from the extremely smooth surface of your neck, I move my arms to help you remove the garment. You drop it on top of your scrub top. I see the two materials lying there, and I'm overcome with the most odd sensation of sentimentality. I shouldn't, I know, but the sight of your shirt and my bra, discarded together in the same place, knowing the meaning behind it, hits me. You're half naked in front of me and I'm half naked in front of you. We both want this. Right now there's tension between us, and we both feel it enough to want more. It's not just me craving you, it's the other way around as well. This means something; if not love or devotion, it at least means affection and warmth. If that's all this ever amounts to, then I'll remember to appreciate it for what it is.

I halt my kisses along your neck and look at you. Something causes us to grow still. Your hands rest gracefully on my back while mine rest on your sides. For one second, just one single second, everything is quiet but us. I remember how earlier, you told me to try and force noise out of a particular situation. I do that now as I admire the intensity of your eyes. I smile at you, timidly. You don't even hesitate to smile back. The thought causes heat to build up inside me. I caused you to smile during an intimate moment. The significance of that is not lost on me.

I know this hushed period of time won't last much longer, so I lean into you. I bring our lips closer. Only a breath of space in between us, I pause. I want to know if you'll go the rest of the way, if you'll bring us together in this unusually tender moment. I'm not disappointed. Your lips touch mine and for the first time, there's no forcefulness or authority. It's just the silky sensation of your soft lips caressing mine while mine caress yours. I could stay like this forever, if only I could.

I feel the tip of your tongue press delicately against me, requesting entrance to my mouth. The sweetness of your silent appeal resonates within me. You've never been so utterly gentle before now. I eagerly part my lips and allow our tongues to touch. There's something unique about a kiss that involves two tongues hitting one another. It may sound like a messy kiss, or a frenzied kiss, and it can be sometimes. But when two people lose themselves in the absolute power that can come with two tongues grazing one another, it can also be elegant. That's what this is now, this kiss between us. I don't know if it's because we were laughing and smiling before I came onto you, or if it's because you're having a good day, but I love where it's brought us. Before now, we've only ever been able to lose ourselves in the haste and the enthusiasm of lust. Now, or at least in this second, it's not like that. There's passion, yes, but it's not unbridled or chaotic like what we've experienced prior to this. Instead, it's a calm fire that's slowly spreading from one body to another. The power of it is unbelievable.

As our tongues continue to collide, I nimbly trail my hands inward to your breasts. I cover them with my palms and clutch at them with persistence, but not roughness. I feel the soft vibration of your moan against my mouth as I cling to you. Your hands, sitting along my back, draw me as close to you as they can. There's no space in between our stomachs as they connect, skin on skin. Now it's my turn to moan into your mouth. The feeling of your nakedness on mine is pretty much my favorite thing.

Ever so gently, you lean back into the chair, effectively ending our kiss. You look at me with earnestness. I don't know how I know what you want, but I can sense that you don't want to kiss anymore. Instead, you want to look at me while we continue to embrace. So I do just that. I keep my eyes on yours while my mouth dips down to take your nipple in my mouth. Your eyes flutter, but you don't close them. For some reason, you don't want to look away from me. I certainly don't mind. I place your nipple in between my teeth and tug lightly. You sigh contentedly into the room. I continue to do this to you, switching between tugging and smothering your very sensitive breasts, until I feel your dominant hand twist its way into my light blue pants.

I break away from your breasts and sit more upright. I mimic your hand with my own, quickly pushing past your hemline and going straight for your center. Your wetness easily matches mine. Normally, either you or I jump right into the act of pushing and thrusting into the other. Sensing the difference this time around, we act differently. You tease me, circling my entrance and watching my eyes droop every time you get close to lunging in. I do the same to you, occasionally drifting upward to circle your clit. I want to make you crave this as much as I am. Truth be told, I want you to crave me in the same way that I crave you, even if the majority of me knows that's not really possible.

When you finally, at long last, slide your long fingers inside me, I allow myself to be immersed in the sensation of you moving devotedly in and out. You've never been so attentive before, so aware of my body's desires. I don't immediately go inside you though, despite knowing how much you want me to. I draw out the time, rocking my body against yours. Eventually, I can see how on edge I've caused you to be by not touching you the way you want. Your eyes don't leave mine as your voice breaks the silence we've created.

"Please Leah," you hesitate, apparently unsure of what you want to say, but then you push forward. You speak softly, slowly. "Make love to me."

Your words are mere whispers, and yet they sound like screams to my ears. You've never said my name during sex. And more than that, you've never come close to describing what we do to one another as making love. It's just not like that, or at least, it's never been like that.

My hips stop their back and forth rotation and my brow furrows. Did you just let that term slip from your lips, or was it intentional? Either way, I could never deny such a stirring plea.

I firmly take hold of your neck under my palm with my left hand and slither my right hand down from your clit to your opening. Right as I glide inside you, I fasten my lips to yours in a desperate kiss. You match my speed, both with our kiss and with the thrusting of our fingers. Completely in sync, I choose not to break away from your lips again, not unless you want to make it happen.

My hips begin to rotate once more, intent on deepening the feeling of your fingers inside me with each forward movement. When you moan against me, I involuntarily copy your moan with one of my own. Your tongue feels amazing on mine as our hot breath mingles with the cold air surrounding us. Our bodies align in every possible way. As your thumb rubs my clit with each plunge, I try my best to do the same to you. I want so badly for my body to hit its climax at precisely the same moment as yours. To be in that place of extremes, of heightened sensitivity and overwhelming tremors, would be something of divine proportions. Keeping that in mind, I decide to quicken my fingers and my tongue along you, never losing the sense of sincerity that we've both so clearly offered up tonight. I don't want you to forget how rare this occasion is, even as you become consumed by the staggering potency of your orgasm.

I wait until I recognize the signs that your body is close to that point. Knowing that, simply comprehending your body's state of arousal, immediately brings me to that same place. I want to continue kissing you as we become undone, but for some reason, you want to look at me instead. So that's what we do. Your eyes pierce mine as your walls begin to spasm around me. In reaction to this, my own walls do the same. Tingles shoot through my legs. The room becomes lighter somehow, though I see nothing but you. The muscles in my thighs twitch. Your stomach muscles tighten. I never look away from you as your orgasm rushes through your body. Your lips part and your eyes penetrate mine. You release the most provocative sound. I don't know what sound escapes my own mouth, but I know that it's wild, free of restraint.

Though your hips can't move as freely as mine, due to my weight on you, you're still able to writhe against me while I shudder against you. We ride out the ripples of our orgasms together, never losing eye contact. It's such an unfathomable thrill to watch you watch me. I effortlessly disintegrate at the force of my body's frenzy, and I know you see that. It's something that I find myself only wanting to share with you.

When our bodies settle, we're still gazing upon one another. I don't want to ruin this place that we've created of openness and ease. I'm hoping that you don't want to ruin it either.

You lift your left hand to my cheek and rest it there. Slowly, your expression transforms from euphoric to playful. You crack a simple smile.

"Well that was different," you say. I almost don't want to respond.

"Different good, I hope?"

"Are you kidding? That was freaking awesome." At this, I can't help but smile too. You seem carefree, completely content.

"Yeah, I think-" the sound of the door opening on the other side of the room shuts me up. My eyebrows rise and I look at you with shock. What do we do?

Reluctantly, but with obvious need to change our positions, we both remove our fingers from within the other. I stand as quietly as possible, and you do the same, grabbing your scrub top on your way up. You place your index finger over your lips, indicating for me to make as little noise as possible. You hastily throw your dark blue top on and then walk around the corner of nearby lockers to see who's entered the room. I hear you greet someone.

"Owen, hi!" Your voice is overly cheerful.

"Arizona, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be home by now." I hear Owen move about the room. I can only hope that his belongings are nowhere near where I'm currently standing, topless.

"Yeah, um, I have a few patients that I want to keep an eye on overnight."

"Why? There's extra staff on your floor. If you're needed, they'll page you."

"I know. I might go home in a bit."

"Oh, is it-" I can tell that Owen stops moving as he pauses his sentence. "Is it that you don't like the hotel?"

You don't answer straightaway, apparently taken aback by the question.

"You know that I'm not living with Callie anymore?" Your voice has quickly lost its liveliness.

"Well, she told me. I hope you don't mind that I know. I haven't told anyone."

"No, no, it's fine." Even though you say you're fine, I can tell from here that you're slightly flustered. "Obviously we're not together anymore, which means that we aren't living under the same roof. It makes sense that you know."

"So how've you been with everything? Can I ask that, or is it too personal?" I think I hear one of you sitting down.

"Of course you can ask Owen. I've been… okay. Good, sort of. It's been hard, but healthy to be apart. How've you been since things ended with Cristina?"

"Wow, that's a hard question to answer." He sighs audibly. "It's been really difficult. But she wants me to start dating other people, to move on. It's weird that she wants that, but I sort of get it. I just met this really nice woman actually, Emma Marling. Have you heard of her?"

"The name sounds familiar. Is she at Seattle Pres?"

"Yeah, she's the chief of maternal fetal medicine. You'd like her. She's a little like you: happy-go-lucky, great with kids. I'm trying to convince her to transfer here. She said she'll think about it. If she ends up coming around for an interview, would you mind giving her a tour? I think you two would hit it off."

"Sure, I'd like to meet her."

"I might try and convince her to come by in a day or two, would that work with your schedule?"

"I can make it work."

"Great. So what about you, are you seeing anyone?"

In the five seconds that it takes for you to answer, my palms begin to sweat and my stomach goes cold. I fear your answer.

"Uh, yeah. I am," I hear you respond. I immediately release the breath I was holding.

"Yeah? That's great! I'm happy for you." I vaguely take in the sound of Owen standing from wherever he was sitting. He moves in the direction of your voice. "I hope you're happy Arizona. You deserve to be."

"You do too, you know, after everything you went through with Cristina. I hope Emma's good for you."

"I think she is. She's kind of amazing. And I hope your mystery woman is good for you too. Do I know her?"

Oh shit.

"No-no." You stutter. "You don't. I'm kind of keeping her to myself for now, until things settle down between Callie and I. I can't say that she'd be as open-minded about me dating someone as Cristina is with you."

Owen laughs at this.

"Well, Cristina's a unique person, as you know. She just wants the best for me."

There's a silence then, and I imagine you're possibly nodding or smiling at him, bringing the conversation to an end.

"Well, I should get going," Owen says. I hear him grab a set of keys. "Go home. Rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Will do. Have a good night, Owen."

"You too, Arizona."

As soon as the door closes, I lean heavily against the wall and breathe a sigh of relief. You walk over to me, your eyes on the ground. Your statement to him, of us 'seeing' one another rings in my ears. It makes me want to smile until my cheeks hurt.

"That was lucky," I say. You look up, your expression composed and relaxed. I see my scrub top in your hand. You hand it to me.

"No kidding. We probably shouldn't fool around here again."

"It was fun while it lasted," I remark, pulling the light blue material over my head.

"It was," you say, so soft that I strain to hear you. You move your eyes to mine and you grin. "You are good for me, you know. Owen said that he hopes you're good for me, and in a way, I think you are. I should thank you for that."

I saunter to you and bring our faces mere inches from one another.

"Then how about you bring me to your hotel room and give me a proper thank you?"

I watch you study me. You scan my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, my chin, and then you land back on my eyes.

"Okay, let's go."

And for the absolute first time, you tangle your fingers in mine instead of the other way around. You lead me to the door. On the way, you snatch a jacket from where your things are stored. We leave the room hand in hand, something that I just couldn't ever imagine you permitting at the hospital before now. Granted, there's a very slim chance anyone will see us, considering the time, but I still cherish the sentiment.

When we walk into the night moments later, the hospital far behind us, I recall the words that you uttered earlier. "Make love to me," you'd said. Your request still makes me shiver. If you'll let me, I'll make love to you for every hour remaining tonight, until you leave me in the morning to return to work. I'll devote every second to showing you how much I appreciate you. I'll try my damndest to express that Owen is right in his assessment. I'm good for you. In fact, I think I can be great for you, if you'll allow it.


	8. Chapter 8

I send you a message after work, to see what you're up to. Your response comes a few minutes later.

_I'm jumping in the hotel pool, to get some exercise. I'll see you tomorrow? _

I can't help but picture you swimming, scantily clad in what I can only hope is a barely-there bikini. Then I think of your wet skin, your hair dripping, your body moving fluidly back and forth in the water. How hot it would be to see you like that. I can't just leave you alone now, not knowing what I'm missing. So instead of heading out to have drinks with Stephanie, I decide to drop by my place and grab my own string bikini, something I didn't think I'd be needing during the cold Seattle months.

Arriving at the hotel, holding the spare entrance keys you've given me, I take the elevator to the floor with the pool. I walk down the hall and once I'm at the door to the poolroom, I look in through the small glass window. There you are, easily backstroking from one side to the other. Your stomach is bare. I see that the color of your bikini is red, dark red. Damn do you look good. I could stand here and watch you until morning and never get bored. You look like you're part of the water, effortlessly using your body to do laps quicker than most people. You don't talk much about your past, but I wouldn't be surprised if you were involved in some sort of swim team as a teenager or young adult. In a way, you even look at peace, at home among the chlorine and the waves.

I quietly open the door, a loose t-shirt covering the black of my bikini and a towel wrapped around my lower body. I see your own towel on the far end of the pool, beside your prosthetic. There's no one but us in the room. With the sound of the water in your ears, you don't hear me come in. I kind of like that, because it gives me more time to admire you before you have to acknowledge my presence.

Slowly, I make my way to the shallow end. I remove my sandals, quite possibly a poor choice in footwear considering how cold my toes have become from the outside weather. I place my towel and keys to the side. Wanting to test the temperature of the pool, I drop my feet into the water. It's warm, much warmer than I expected. I lower myself into a sitting position. As you glide from the deep end back toward me, something makes you turn your eyes from the ceiling, perhaps sensing someone nearby. You look at me and take me in. You slow your pace. A smile graces your features. I grin, enjoying the fact that you smile at me now more than ever before.

Coming within a few feet of my dangling legs, you adjust your body so that you're standing. The buoyancy of the water allows you to naturally position yourself upright without needing your prosthetic. I imagine you must enjoy the feeling of being able to stand without needing something attached to your thigh. I've heard of amputees using water as both a method of exercise and relaxation. The ability to float and move about is beneficial and soothing.

"Hey, I didn't expect to see you tonight."

You hop a little on your right leg before settling into a comfortable stance, your foot flattening against the bottom of the pool. I can't help but look down at your cleavage. I don't know if your breasts have ever looked so appealing. They're full, pressed tightly against the fabric. Your nipples are sticking out just so, apparently stimulated from the movement of the water against them. I can only hope that you know how fucking sexy you are, half naked, water trickling down your cheeks. As I pictured earlier, your light hair is drenched and clinging to your face. I'm so glad I didn't just go out for drinks tonight. Seeing you like this is so much better.

"I thought you might like some company," I say. You nod your head and notice my towel.

"Are you coming in here?" You ask.

"I don't want to interrupt your exercises."

"Well I'm almost done. I just need to go for a few more minutes, strain my muscles a bit more. Do you mind waiting?"

"Not at all. I like watching you."

"Well in that case-" you smirk and go right back into the same position as before, back down, stomach exposed for my viewing, and your eyes looking up. Your arms start moving again. I wonder if you like backstroking, if it's easier for you than other swimming styles, or if you're doing it to build up a particular area of your arms. I glance down at them and I find myself unable to look away from the toned muscles. The way you swing through the water, pulling your body backward in a straight path, is mesmerizing. The trim shape of your upper arms very plainly shows your delicate strength. It must be something that you do often, work out. Your body is feminine and smooth, but also firm and capable. Seeing as you have no left leg, I bet you put an extra amount of effort into maintaining that perfect body of yours. I have to say, it definitely pays off. There's no other body that I'd rather lose myself in than yours.

After several minutes of you swiftly moving from the deep end to the shallow end and back again, exerting an intense amount of willpower in not stopping, you finally bring yourself to a halt in front of me. You're a little out of breath. I have to commend you on how hard you were just working yourself. I don't think I could have gone that hard for that long. But you never fail to amaze me, in everything that you do.

"Did you enjoy the show?" You ask, jumping to the side of the pool and laying your arms over one another on the ledge. You drop your head on them and look at me while you wind down.

"More than I should have," I laugh. With your body pressed against the cement wall, I drag my eyes down your back. The dark red string holding the bikini top on your breasts looks so tempting. I want to untie it, scrape my nails along the skin there, and wrap my hands around you to cup you in my palms. It's insane how much I want your body, how much I want you.

"Well are you gonna come in, or just keep staring at me?" You chuckle, your head still on its side.

With that, I remove my t-shirt and place the bottom of my hands on the ledge. I push myself in. I drop below the surface, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of the warm water enveloping me. I come up and bend my neck back so my wet hair doesn't fall over my eyes. You spin around to face me, your back leaning against the rough lining of the pool.

"How have I not seen you wet before now?" You ask with a rasp, your eyes raking down my body, observing the black material that's covering very little of my skin.

"You have," I whisper, implying the double entendre. "Just not this wet."

"I think I'll have to invite you into my shower sometime," you say softly, moving closer to me. "Maybe after we go upstairs?"

We're inches apart.

"Definitely."

My mind starts to lose its rationality. You're just so damn gorgeous, standing in front of me with damp cheeks and moist lips. It's like every time I see you, you're more beautiful than the time before. I didn't know it was possible for that to happen, to look at someone like I look at you. You entice me in the most exotic way.

"You know, there are cameras in here," you say quietly, nodding toward the corner of the room, at the ceiling. I look and see that you're right, there are cameras. I pay them little attention. I don't care who sees us together. I lose the distance between our bodies and allow your slick stomach to meet mine. I rest my hands on your hips.

"God, you feel good," I sigh.

I slide my hands down to your thighs and pick you up. I drape your right leg around my waist and grip your left thigh tightly with my fingers. Yes, I can have you wrapped around me like this outside of the water, but in here it's much easier to hold you and push you into me without worrying about you being uncomfortable.

"So do you. I can't believe we haven't done this before."

The heat of your center grinds against my stomach. I groan at the feeling. I move in to kiss you and apparently you have the same idea, because our lips collide with pressure on both sides. I suddenly remember that when we first started this thing between us, you barely permitted kissing. Hell, even I was slightly opposed to it because I was trying to be the simple person that you wanted me to be. But here we are now, our tongues crashing together with an immediate sense of passion. I try not to think of what this can mean for us, or what it can mean about your feelings toward me. I just think about how good it feels. You're allowing me to meet with you in a very sensual, personal fashion. I can't, and won't, take it for granted.

"Screw this," you retort, suddenly breaking away from our kiss. Your lips move to my ear. "Let's go in the Jacuzzi over there. It has bubbles, so the cameras won't see anything.

I inspect the Jacuzzi that you're peering at with wicked intentions. It's connected to the pool, only separated by a large step to keep the two different waters from mixing. I quickly consider how I'm going to get you in there with only my support to guide you. I move us toward the hot water. As I get closer, you dip your head down to my neck and start grazing your teeth along my skin. It's a delicious seduction; your way of telling me what's to come.

Once I'm standing beside the Jacuzzi, I merely use the water as a way of lifting you up. You place your hands behind you on the large step and utilize the muscles in your arms to boost you the rest of the way. In the second that you're sitting there, your body above mine facing both myself and the pool, I just can't believe how flawless you are. Before you swirl yourself around to settle among the sweltering bubbles, you're briefly on display. Your skin practically glows. The dark red bikini sticks to you in such a sinful way. It should be a crime to look at you. It should be against the law, because what you have to offer is severely dangerous. You offer a way to satisfy lust and hunger and an urge to consume. I want to consume you until our bodies have grown weak, utterly spent after hours of lovemaking. I want to devour you in the most unfathomable way. I want to drain you of energy and exhaust you. And more than any of that, I want to take your body to places that it's never been before. I don't know if I can, and I likely can't, but there's no harm in trying. I just want to convince you to drown your senses in me and become intoxicated with how I can touch you so completely. Because when you touch me, that's what it's like. It all comes down to one thing: I want you to truly comprehend how profound it feels to be so deeply regarded. I doubt anyone has ever looked at you the way I do, or ever will.

Once you've turned your body away from mine to plunge into the hot water, I immediately follow. You move to the far side and rest your back against the inside layer of the Jacuzzi wall. The texture is very different than the pool, more smooth. Instead of having you around me like before, I'm quick to straddle you. The bubbles really do hide everything below the surface, as you said they would, so I know the cameras won't be able to see what I've got planned. Of course, that doesn't mean they won't capture the gist of it.

In no time, our mouths are connected and our lips are moving in a lovely rhythm. I really do love your tongue. The way it glides against my lips and along my teeth is extremely provoking.

My body is covered from the middle of my stomach down, and it's pretty much the same for you. My hands eagerly reach for your breasts, which I've been admiring since I saw you through the glass on the poolroom door. I don't think I can describe how appetizing they are, so abundant, so silken and tender under my hands. After gripping you for long moments from the outside of the red material, savoring the mere thought of you beneath me, I eventually slip beneath the still-wet bikini top.

By now, I've grown somewhat accustomed to your reactions when I touch specific areas on your body. So when I skim the very tip of my fingers against both of your nipples at the same time, I more or less expect you to moan. What I don't expect is the way you violently rip your face away from mine and cry out, loudly, into the empty room. I raise my eyebrow and look at you, stilling my movements. I barely touched you. Why did it evoke such a response?

"I take it you enjoyed that?" I ask huskily, shimmying my body further into yours.

You look very directly at me.

"I've been turned on all day. I guess I'm a little oversensitive."

"You have? And why is that?"

"I don't- I don't know," you stutter, probably due to me distracting you with kisses along your neck.

"Are you in the mood for anything in particular, then?"

I wonder how turned on you are, and what the true cause is, but I don't push you for a more detailed answer. Instead, I tweak your nipples in between my fingers. I'm rather satisfied when you let out a low, but drawn-out, groan.

"I just need you to stop going slow Leah," you whisper hotly against me. I don't fail to notice the use of my name, similar to our last encounter. "Just get me off already. I promise I'll make it worth your while once we're upstairs."

My stomach flips. God the things you can do to me.

Wanting to grant your request, I gingerly allow my right hand to skid down your stomach, my nails leaving a distinct outline in their wake. Meanwhile, I bring my left hand to the front of your neck and press down softly. Your eyes flutter at the light force. I definitely notice. I drift inside the bottom of your bikini, feeling the water all around my hand. I push against your clit before doing anything else. Your eyes hit mine and you gasp. I yearn to make you gasp as often as possible, just like that. I start making circles against you.

"Bigger," you murmur. "Make bigger circles."

So I do. And as I do what you want to your clit, my pinky and ring finger begin to drift inside your very wet core. The wetness from inside you is obviously different from the water in the Jacuzzi, and it's an incredible difference. I always get a ridiculous high just from knowing that I turn you on so strongly.

Within seconds, I impress both of us when I start to thrust into you with part of my hand while also maintaining the rapid circles with the other. To be fair, the thrusts into you are not the same as normal. They don't move inside as far as they have before. Instead, they sink in and then move from left to right, allowing my knuckles to hit that spot that often drives you just a little crazy. I keep up with this pattern while I watch you, our lips not touching, but still only separated by inches. Your eyes are hooded. Now that your face is dry from the pool water and only covered in a slight sheen of sweat and steam, I can see that your cheeks are turning red. You're heating up, in more ways than one.

Together, we relinquish our minds to the will of our bodies' desires. Minutes are lost while our hips rock together. It's as though we're one unit, completely joined and entirely aware of what the other wants. I want you to make noise, and to hold onto me with every muscle in your body. You don't fail to indulge me in this. And you, you want me to bring you to that inexplicable place of unrestrained satisfaction. I have no qualms in giving you exactly that.

When I sense that your orgasm is fast approaching, one of your hands slinks its way up to my own left hand, currently resting on the front of your neck. You hold your fingers onto mine and push down, indicating that you want me to… choke you? Is that what you want? Are you into that sort of thing? Well, I suppose we'll find out.

Your inner thighs start to clench against my right wrist, placing a surprising amount of friction on it even with the water in between us. I manage to quicken my pace inside you and over your swollen clit. I know how close you are by the teeth currently digging into your bottom lip, and the shaking of your right leg along my lower back. I still can't believe that I'm the one causing your body to move this way. I don't slow down or shift away from you in the slightest. Even with the odd angle of my hand's movements, I ignore the minor pain, because watching you come undone due to that precise extremity is an amazing thrill.

With my left hand, I dig my fingers harshly into your neck. Your head flies back. You do like it! I press harder. Your prior moans are nothing compared to the ones now easily flowing from your lips. Certainly, from the expression on your face and the hasty twitches of your lower body, the cameras on the ceiling will most definitely capture the true act we're engaging in. I have no problem with that.

I continue to squeeze my fingers below your chin, every once in a while adjusting them to a different area on your neck, but always gripping you tightly. You can still breathe, I make sure of that, but it honestly doesn't seem to be an issue for you. Seeing how much you're enjoying that realm between pleasure and pain, I decide to take it a little further right when I feel your inner muscles begin to convulse against me. Your lips part and your eyes clench. I wait a few seconds for the perfect moment during your orgasm to approach, that one instant where your ears ring and your blood rushes through you. It's then that I sink my nails into the pliant flesh of your neck, the soft skin that has so quickly turned an angry red. You proceed to very openly, very boldly, yell into the steam-filled air surrounding us. A thought promptly skitters through my mind that I kind of hope those cameras don't record audio as well as visual. But then again, I'm pretty damn proud that I can make you shout like this, like nothing exists but my body on top of you and your skin sliding deliciously against mine. Quite frankly, the way you cry out, regardless of anyone around us, is sexy as hell.

As your climax dwindles away, I feel your muscles relax around me. You drop your head back and you slide down farther into the Jacuzzi, allowing us both to descend. The hot water covers our skin almost up to our necks, but still, I don't disentangle from your limp form. I love this part almost as much as I love when you moan and scream out your orgasm, because it's when I can take a quiet minute to admire what I've done to you, and relish it.

Eventually, you raise your head and we meet eye to eye. Your hair has dried some. You're a marvellous sight, one to observe with awe. I know I do when I look at you.

I remove my fingers from within your soaked core. You exhale. We just sit together, quietly. Ultimately, your body craves movement and needs to stretch. I move to the opposite side of the bubbling water and watch as you stretch your arms above your head. My left foot touches your right under the water. You look at me and smirk. I really enjoy when you're totally settled after sex and all you want to do is flirt and smile and grin at me. It's a phase that doesn't often last very long, but it's refreshing nonetheless.

I notice your lips dip into a slight frown and your eyes move to the door behind me, quite a distance away. I go to turn my head and look where you are but you quickly stop me.

"No, don't look!" You say in a hushed tone.

"Is someone there?" I ask, concerned.

"Yeah, there is. I think it's someone who works here, probably trying to close up the pool for the night." You look back at me, suddenly appearing overly mischievous. You maneuver your body close to mine, quite similar to how we were before, but with you on top of me instead. You move in close to my ear and whisper hotly against me. "Do you want to give them a show?"

I move my head back and peer at you. Are you serious?

"Don't you think we've already given them a show?" I ask, slightly taken aback. You don't answer. "I thought we were gonna go upstairs to your room? You know, head into the shower together?"

"Eh," you say, looking very much like you're up to no good. "Later. Right now, I want to make you scream as loud as I just did."

And with that, you drop your mouth to mine and your hands fall below the depths of the searing water. I'm not entirely okay with this, but I'm absurdly helpless when it comes to you. I wonder if this is maybe another control thing. Do you want to show the hotel worker that you have a deep influence over this woman beneath you, or is it that you want to prove something to me, that I'll do just about anything for you? Either way I have to admit that it's true because very quickly, when your deft fingers snake their way into the bottom of my bikini, my eyes instantly close. I'm left knowing, without a shadow of doubt, that there'll never be a point in which I'm not at your every beck and call.


	9. Chapter 9

I'm so confused by you. Most of the time, your need to be in control is obvious, whether it's with your sex life or with your professional life. But then there are other instances, like last night in the pool, when a different side of you makes itself known. You wanted me to be dominant for a change, at least until that hotel employee showed up. I was really thrown off by it. Then when I think more about this conflicting part of your behavior, I can't help but recall our experience in the locker room. You didn't beg me, which makes sense for your type-A personality, but you did request something of me. You asked me to make love to you. I was immediately overjoyed so I didn't think anything of it at the time. But now, I question it. You were willing to leave yourself vulnerable, open. It's something that's unlike you. Basically I feel somewhat baffled. Do you want to be in control, or to be controlled? Either way, describing my current thoughts about you as 'confusing' is definitely an understatement.

Pushing my perplexing thoughts to the side, I contemplate today's events. It was a great day. Well actually, it was a pretty bad day, but this evening was great. I trailed after Dr Avery for hours, until he finally agreed to let me remove the drain on one of his patients. Then when I was done, he let me take care of the facial laceration that he was planning on doing. I treated both of his patients without a hitch. It felt so good to be trusted, and then to be successful. Which brings me to this moment, where I'm in a damn good mood. Not surprisingly, I'd love to share my mood with you.

_Wanna get together?_

I send you a text and quickly get changed in the resident's locker room. As soon as I grab my things to leave, I feel the phone vibrate in my pocket. I know it's from you, which makes me beam like an idiot. Heading into the hall and toward the main doors of the hospital, I read your message.

_I'm out, but should be home soon. Meet me there?_

_Sounds good. Leaving work now._

With a jump in my step and a grin on my face, I dive into the cold night air. I make my way to the Archfield Hotel. It's freezing, so I pull my jacket inward and shove my hands inside my pockets. I might need to invest in a winter coat one of these days.

After a brisk walk, I head into the building and go to your room. I love that you're okay with me waiting here without you. It's something I haven't done before. I like that you're opening a new door for us, one that shows your comfort level when it comes to me. We're not dating, and I doubt we ever will, but it seems like you're inviting me into your life a little more with each passing day. Or, more precisely, with each passing night. I think back over some of our interactions.

You said I was pretty. I called you out on it. We kissed. The next day, you shoved me to the side. Ironically, you sent me a come hither text that very night. We started up an easy synergy. For a while, it was detached between us, but never cold. That one day, you alleviated my HIV concerns at work. When we were past that, we came to learn the true meaning of stamina. I saw your temporary addiction to cigarettes. You didn't hide from me when you were drowning in sorrow. Instead, you gave me the chance to distract you from the pain. That one time, you lost command of your body at the hospital. You followed it up with a ragged attempt at controlling me instead. I was okay with it. I saw you speaking with Callie on multiple occasions. I never interrupted. I accepted that I'd never be your first priority. Knowing that, I willingly fell into our arrangement. I accepted my intense feelings for you. You helped me stay calm during a stressful situation at work. You put a name to our activities, calling it 'making love,' at least once. You told Owen that you were seeing someone. You allowed me to subdue you in the hotel Jacuzzi. Right after, you made a 180 by exerting your authority over me in a public manner. And now you're welcoming me into your bedroom, your short-term home, without your presence. I don't know where we'll go from here, or for how long, but I hope it's somewhere good.

I drop my things on a side table and remove my too-thin jacket. Turning on a light, I breathe in the smell of the room. Already, I associate it with you. It's a cozy hotel room, quaint but modern. The drapes are pulled open so I walk over to the window and look out at the night. I lean against the wall and simply enjoy the moment. No, you and I aren't an item, I get that. But look at where we are. You're letting me into your place with complete faith. And outside of the sexual relationship that we're in, I'm feeling pretty positive about other things too. Over the last few months, I've gained some great friends from my fellow interns. It's nice to have people in my corner. Plus, at the hospital, I love that Dr Avery relied on me and found it pays off. If my days keep going like this, being near you, having good friends and an awesome job, then that's all I can ask for. Right now, reveling in the quiet, I'm happy.

I hear the lock on the door click. Turning my head, I see you enter the room. God do you look good. Your hair is more wavy than curly. Even in the mostly dark room, your eyes are clearly visible. They're one of my favorite things about you.

"Hey," I say, greeting you with a smile.

"Hey yourself. Have you been here long?" You ask, setting down your things and moving about the room. You grab a nearby water bottle and take a swig before heading in my direction. I keep my eyes on you.

"Just a few minutes."

You stand beside me and lean on the opposite side of the window. The mood of our exchange is casual, easy.

"How was your day?"

I nod my head and glance back outside, still remembering the feeling of excitement at being successful with my patients.

"It was good. I spent a lot of time bouncing between Dr Webber's storytelling and Stephanie staring at the 3D printer… and Dr Avery finally trusted me while I was on his service." I finish my sentence with a huge grin on my face.

"Yeah? That's great! He should be teaching you, that's part of his job."

"Well, I think he's kind of reluctant to teach anyone sometimes. So how was your day?" I turn more to face you.

"Um, yeah it was fine. You know, normal stuff." You push off from the wall and start walking toward the center of the room. "I'm gonna get ready for bed. You wanna join me in the shower?"

You sit down and start removing your shoes. I ponder your question. You've never really calmly hung out with me before going to sleep for the night. I mean, on the nights that I'm here with you, we normally get naked, have hot sex, and then I go home to my own place. If you want me to shower with you, does that mean you'll want me to stay overnight afterward? I find that hard to believe. Maybe you just want shower sex. If that's the case, I'm definitely interested.

"Sure," I respond, closing the distance between us until I'm standing in front of you. I start to shed my clothes, half-expecting you to admire me as I do. But unfortunately, you don't even glance up. You're not ignoring me, obviously. You just seem sidetracked. I wonder what's going on in that head of yours. "I'll meet you in there."

It's nearly five minutes later before you enter the bathroom, wearing your colorful silk robe. I'm under the hot water, enjoying the steam that's steadily surrounding me. I watch you walk slowly to the mirror. You look at yourself, your eyes lingering. I don't know what you're studying. I leave you to whatever you're doing for another minute or two before deciding to pop my head out from behind the glass door. The steam gushes into the cooler area.

"You comin' in here?" I say with a light smirk, my wet hair falling beside my face. I want to interrupt your reverie and somehow draw you back into me.

"Yeah," you retort, seeming a little far off. "In one minute."

I accept your reply and lean back under the water. Tipping my head, I close my eyes. I love the feeling of the hot liquid rushing over my face and down my neck. After a few seconds, I tilt my head from the constant stream and look over at you through the glass. I vaguely see you remove your necklace and place it in a small box. I don't know the significance of that particular piece of jewellery, but I've never seen you remove it before. I wonder why you've chosen to now. The thought leaves my mind when you, a few moments later, enter the shower without a single layer of clothing on your body. You've removed your prosthetic. You place your hands on the metal bars lining the rectangular shape we're standing in. You requested this room for this exact reason, the support that the shower offers you when you're without your plastic limb. Even if the bars weren't there though, I'd support you. I wouldn't let you fall.

You sidle forward until our bodies connect in a delicious way. The water slowly covers your skin and I hold your hips in my hands. Yet again, I'm reminded of how good everything is right now, with you attached to me so sensually.

I step back and you follow, essentially allowing the liquid to soak your hair. I watch as the blonde turns dark. I like both colors on you. When you move your head to the side, so you can open your eyes without water getting in them, I can't help but smile. My mood must have some sort of impression on you because suddenly, you're smiling too. I love when that happens, when my mood influences yours. I think it says something about you, or about us.

Gingerly, we lean into each other and our lips fuse as though they're one. I savor the softness of every inch of your body flush against mine. I kiss you and roam my hands along you like there's nowhere else I'd rather be. And honestly, there isn't.

You nibble on my lower lip. I release a whimper. I bring my fingers up to twist among your wet tresses. You somehow manage to deepen our kiss, intensify it. You grab my neck with your right hand and pull me very tightly against you. It's not violent, but it sure as hell isn't tender either. I want to say it's passionate, but that's a chilling thought. You, kissing me with passion, instead of the other way around? It can't be possible.

You trail your hand down my back to land just below my hips, all the while keeping your other hand on the bar to your side. I take an insane amount of pleasure in feeling your slick breasts and your flawless curves joining with mine. I want to say that we fit together perfectly, but I doubt you'd say the same. Then again, with the way you're clinging to me, maybe you would agree. I don't deliberate over the possibility, not wanting to have to remind myself of your reason for getting involved with me in the first place: your misery. Instead, I move my hands down to your neck and lightly graze my nails over your sensitive skin. You moan. My body erupts in chills. I'll never get used to the effect you have over me.

Before I have the chance to break away from our kiss to place my lips on your neck, you beat me to it. I feel your plump lips move along me, under my ear, below my jaw. The sensation is different than when you're dry, or when you're among chlorinated water. It's hot, vivid. I pull you away from your ministrations and force our eyes to connect. I want to see you at this exact moment, to gaze upon your blue eyes and see just how much desire is lying there. What I see shocks me. I see a profound amount of emotion, entirely wrapped up in eagerness. You want me. I mean, you really do want me, and not just in a withdrawn sort of way where you're only focused on the need to find release. This yearning that's so apparent is interlaced with affection. I peer at you for a moment too long, inspecting, wondering if I'm really seeing this or if I'm imagining it.

"What's wrong?" You manage to rasp out.

I don't even know how to respond. You've never looked at me like this. No, it's not a look of love or devotion or anything like that, but it's an expression of sincerity. It's more than how a mentor looks at their student, or a colleague looks at their co-worker. It's not even how a friend looks at a friend. It's somewhere in between love and like, if that's possible. But am I going crazy, because I don't know if there's even something in between the two different terms. So how the hell am I going to answer you without sounding like I've lost my mind? I can't. Instead, I shake my head to try and rid my mind of anymore distracting, mind-blogging thoughts, and I bring my lips back down to yours.

For long minutes, my hands wander over your body when suddenly, I feel your dexterous right hand begin to make patterns on my inner thigh. I lose my breath and drop my head on your neck until I can settle myself. I glance at you and see you grinning. Very swiftly, you slide your index finger among the warmth of my folds. I gasp, feeling out of breath all over again.

I lean down and capture your nipple in between my lips. You may not want to take your time with my body, enjoying every dip, every bend, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy yours. When you push against my already very sensitive clit, I react by biting down on your nipple. As you begin to stroke me back and forth and then create circles along me, I do the same with my mouth. If you press particularly hard, I cry out, and it's very much the same if I dig my teeth into you harder than you expect. The shower quickly becomes filled with our sounds, mixing among the hum of the constant water bearing down on us.

I bring my tongue in between your luscious breasts and caress the soft skin. I travel up and down the valley before moving to your other side and paying it just as much attention. You're spending so much time touching my clit that I hardly think you're ever going to move away from it, not that I'd mind. I'm wrong though, because you eventually dip down to press your fingers within me. And damn, does it feel amazing.

Within seconds, I'm already bucking my hips forward, trying to urge you into a rhythm. You'll have none of it. So I move my hands to your ass and grind you into me, causing you to groan. I swiftly bring my dominant hand forward, in between your thighs, and plunge into your wetness. You feel incredible. My tactic must have worked, because you start to thrust into me without hesitation. I match you drive for drive, allowing the pad of my thumb to graze over your swollen bundle of nerves. I want to wrap it in between my lips and suck on it until you're crying out, but I also don't want to stop this tempo that we've begun. It's just right, the way I thrust forward at the same moment that you do. Our hips move in time with our fingers, and our bodies move in time with one another.

When I feel those noticeable tingles make their presence known, I'm overcome with a sudden sense of fear. I don't want it to be over yet. I don't want this lovely experience to come to an end. I don't want us to topple over the edge of bliss, completely intertwined and working as a team, only to have you turn right back into the person you were before. When you were sitting on that bed, not even considering the prospect of looking at me as I rid my body of clothes, you were somewhere else entirely. I just don't want to see you like that again, unaware, not after enjoying you like this. So I drastically slow my pace within you. You shift your eyes to mine and question me without words. I merely begin kissing you again, hoping that you'll also slow your pace and we can draw this out.

It takes a few seconds, but then you comply. My body wants to scream out at the lowering in sensation, but then it becomes reignited when our tongues collide, and it doesn't take long before our bodies have created a new pace. Slower this time, our hips jolting together as our fingers delve deep into the other. I curl my fingers within you. You keep your mouth on mine and you moan very heavily against me. It's a wonderful feeling, the vibrations of your arousal pressing against my lips. Following my lead, you also curl your fingers. Very leisurely, our speed begins to quicken again. I try to fight it but my body doesn't want me to. It wants to let go and spasm around you. And who am I kidding? I want to see your body do the same.

We both allow our fingers to drill forward with strong force. Under certain circumstances, it might be too painful to handle, but it isn't like that right now. It's just you and me, unbridled under a hot torrent of water and steam. Our thighs clench down upon the other's wrist at almost the exact second. We couldn't have timed this better if we'd tried. You start to shudder against me, indicating that your climax has arrived with vigor. My own orgasm rips through my body like a tidal wave. Our limbs tighten and twitch. Your lips break from mine and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. I'm not as composed as you are, as evidenced by the very loud, very heavy moan that I expel.

You quake for a long time, and so do I. But eventually, our movements dwindle and we grow still. Reluctantly our fingers are removed and rinsed under the shower head. What surprises me though is what happens next. Instead of disentangling and separating, we simply continue gripping the other for a moment until you finally decide to end the delightful ambiance. You use your arms along the metal bars to move back a foot. I don't like the loss of your body heat on mine, so I merely move forward with you and connect us like before. I know you probably don't want me to, maybe it's too confusing or something, but I simply can't break away from you just yet.

You don't do anything at first, except stand there with your arms at your sides, but then you very softly place your spare hand on my neck. I rest my lips under your ear. We appear to be hugging. Have we done this before? I don't think so.

Without the water hitting us, I'm quickly aware of how ticklish your hand on my neck is making me. I try to ignore it but I can't. Oblivious of what you're doing, you skim the tips of your fingers to an even more sensitive spot. It's the final straw for me and I abruptly burst into a random bout of giggles. I try to move away from your hand but I think you catch on when my neck trembles and tilts to the side. You don't allow me to break away. Instead, you continue to move your fingers along my skin, intentionally prolonging the sensation. Using more strength to pull back, I finally stop you, but not without you putting forth a decent amount of effort first. I look up to find you laughing at me. I laugh right back. And I'm overcome with how feather-light I feel. Like earlier, I feel happy, really happy. I'm glad you haven't turned back into that person from before.

"You're ticklish, I take it?" You ask with a grin. I give you a fake scowl. It only causes you to laugh some more, which I love.

"Yes," I say through my teeth, turning around to grab some shampoo. I proceed to clean my hair and you proceed to inch forward until your front is touching my back. You press your lips to the exact same sensitive spot. I yelp and face you. "Hey! No more tickling."

You don't respond. You merely crack a smile and show your ridiculously white teeth. The way you look right now is beyond compare. Naked. Wet hair. Wide eyes. Bright smile, with a hint of playfulness. You're stunning. I remind myself to let you tickle me more often, if this is the result. How far we've come, you and I, from desperate trysts to nonchalant horseplay.

"Stay over tonight," you suddenly whisper, softly. If it weren't for my eyes watching you, I wouldn't have understood your statement. And even hearing it, understanding it, I don't know what to say. My smile turns to an expression of surprise.

"Really? You don't want me to go home after this?" I ask reluctantly, not wanting to cause you to take back your request.

"No," you respond, your voice louder than before. You throw me a light grin. "I want you to sleep here. Will you?"

Are you kidding? Of course I will! I never want to leave you, especially in the dark hours of the night after connecting in such an intimate way. I just can't believe how good you make me feel- not only sexually, but emotionally as well. You make me unfathomably pleased. My look of shock fades and I match your grin with one of my own.

I can't help but want this envelope of happiness between us to last forever. So before answering you, before stepping into an entirely different phase of our relationship, I send up a silent prayer.

Please God, don't let this bubble pop.


	10. Chapter 10

I fall in love easily. I accept that. I like what love is all about- the excitement, the nervousness, the all-encompassing thoughts. I just really enjoy the emotion and everything that goes with it. When it comes to you though, my love is crazy. I'm a little more irrational, a little more overwhelmed, and a little more lost in the whole thing, but in such a good way. And with the manner in which your tongue is currently circling my clit, my thighs wrapped tightly around your head, I wonder how anyone could not love you? You're fucking amazing. I almost wish you weren't, because it's so hard to accept how goddamn perfect you are.

I have to grip the headboard with my palms in order to keep my balance and not topple over. You're causing the most delicious sensations to tear through my body. The way your tongue glides over me is mindboggling. Have you always been this good? Do you even realize what you're doing to me?

I feel your hands along the backs of my thighs. You switch between lightly caressing them to suddenly grasping at them with all of your strength. I think you might be trying to drive me insane. If that's your goal, I know you'll succeed. And then, I vaguely become aware of your nails scratching down from the top of my thighs to the sensitive skin behind my knees. Damn do you have talent. Or is it skill? Either way, you're giving me severe chills. My body is trembling above you.

"Don't stop!" I cry out, my voice sounding more hoarse than expected.

You don't respond with words. Rather, you cling to me even more and you begin to suck on me like I'm a piece of candy. You seem to be enjoying this almost as much as I am.

I want to touch you, but it's hard at this angle. I maneuver myself so that I can reach your stomach but still face forward. I arch my back and manage to skim my fingertips over your abdomen. Your hips jolt up, not anticipating the contact of my hand running along the taut surface. I want us to experience our climaxes at the same moment, but I know I'm closer than you are, since you've been moving your tongue along me for a few minutes now. Keeping that in mind, I waste no time in pushing my right hand down from your stomach to land in between your inner thighs. I explore your sweet wetness. I really do love that you become turned on when you touch me. It does wonders for my confidence.

I dip about an inch inside you. I hear you release a strangled moan, even while you continue to lick at my extremely hot center. I remove myself from your core and travel up to your clit. You're throbbing for me. I use the tip of a dry finger to rub against you, giving you the friction I know you want. Your tongue never wavers in its movements while I stroke you with haste. I feel my thighs begin to tighten. I take this as a sign to hurry things along. I move frantically from side to side, remembering how you reacted the last time I did just that. I'm not disappointed when I feel your nails dig into the sides of my legs. You must like it. So I keep up with my speed. I feel your tongue journey downward and unexpectedly drill right up into me.

"Shit!" I groan, seizing the headboard with my left hand harder than before. You plunge into me with a strength that you haven't shown up until now. The sensation is incredible.

In order to keep touching you, to keep you moaning against me, I bend back as much as I can. The change in position gives me more flexibility and freedom to easily bring my fingers down to your opening. I push into you. I immediately curl within you in a way that I've come to learn makes you lose track of rational thought. Your reaction to this is so damn good. You swiftly bring your right hand from my thigh to my clit. You start to massage it in time with the thrusts of your tongue. We start up a lovely rhythm.

I keep my fingers inside you, occasionally drifting my thumb along your clit every few seconds, while your tongue and fingers work against me at the same time. Our bodies move in twitches and jerks. I dreamily recognize that both of our arms and legs are covered in a light layer of sweat. It doesn't surprise me. This position is definitely uncomfortable, but it's probably also my favorite. There's something wholly sexy about sitting on top of you, giving you the opportunity to drink me up with that adept tongue of yours. Not to mention, being able to glance down and see every inch of you while I bring you to that peak… it makes me ignore the muscles in my legs and ass clamping together to the point of spasms. Because even if I have a ton of pain tomorrow when I walk or sit or even move, I know it'll have been worth it.

Needing to release some of the strain in my body, I moan loudly into the room. I know my orgasm is fast approaching. I think yours is too, judging by your muscles stiffening around my fingers. Neither of us let up.

In seconds, I'm there. I can't think of anything except how badly I want you to ride out the waves of pleasure with me. It's the only reason I'm able to keep my hand moving against you, hard and fast. And then, shit, you're there too. You groan into me, somehow managing to keep your tongue moving all the while. We carry out the tingles together. Our eyes are closed and the room is filled with our sounds. Thank God the bed doesn't squeak, or else it would be squealing like crazy right now with how harshly I'm shaking forward and back. It's a wonder you're even able to keep a steady hold on me. We keep going, our hands and our tongues, until I release a ridiculous amount of liquid and I feel it land on your lips. And even then, it takes a moment for me to slow my hips and your own whimpers subside. Reluctantly, I lean away from your body and prop myself heavily against the wall in front of me. My forehead drops down. I sigh. That was intense.

When I feel your head move an inch or so away from its prior spot, I swing my leg to the side and slide down. I lie beside you and leisurely catch your eye. I can't help but grin. That orgasm was extreme! And it's all because of you. I can only hope that you enjoyed what I offered in return equally as much.

"So…" you draw out, turning on your side to face me.

"So?" I ask.

"What'd you think of that?"

"Are you kidding?" I ask rhetorically. You laugh.

"Do you want to try something else, a different position?" You look almost cocky. I probably shouldn't admire that look on you, but I do.

"Um, yeah! You aren't tired?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Are you?" You retort.

"Not at all."

"Well then," you say, reaching over to the phone beside the bed. "I need to request a few more pillows from downstairs."

What now? I'm shocked, confused. You call down for more pillows and I quickly start wondering exactly what you have in mind. You must need the pillows for some sort of support. I just can't picture it. The idea is exciting. I love how you're exploring all these different things with me now. Being with you is a nonstop thrill.

When you're done with the phone call, you turn back toward me. We prop ourselves up on our elbows and look at one another. I find myself wanting to ask about your day, but then again, I kind of don't. I didn't converse with you at all throughout the morning or afternoon. We didn't talk until tonight. You were out of the hospital. In fact, you were at Callie's court hearing for hours. You didn't need to testify, but you went anyway. I choose to believe the reason for your presence was because you needed to support your daughter's other mother, and not to support your ex-wife. Of course even if you were there to support her though, I suppose I should see that as being kind-hearted. That's who you are.

"What are you thinking about?" You ask casually. I kind of panic. I don't want to ask you about today, or about Callie. So I ask the next question that's been lingering in my head lately.

"Actually, I was wondering something about you. But I'm afraid to ask you about it."

"Ask away. I'm an open book."

"Well, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." You smile.

"Leah, just ask. What's up?" I hesitate, and then I blurt it out.

"Why'd you cheat?"

Your expression immediately drops. You look away, and then you glance back at me. You respond slowly.

"She showed me something about myself, something that I needed at the time."

"What'd she show you?" You allow a sad smile to appear upon your lips.

"That losing control is okay, from time to time." You pause. "She showed me that I didn't have to be so tightly-wound. Because that's who I was until I met her."

I nod my head, wanting to look away but not allowing myself to.

"So is that why you like to have me take charge sometimes?" I ask, softly. You give me a confused gaze. "You know, like downstairs in that hot tub?"

"Oh. Oh yeah, that was hot." You actually chuckle, and our mood lightens.

"Yeah, it was." I laugh too.

"I was just really uptight, you know, after the plane crash. It wasn't right what I did, cheating, but it allowed me to kind of move past something that I was really struggling with. In a weird way, it helped. Does that make sense?"

"Kind of. Yeah, I get it."

We're silent for a moment.

"How long have you been wanting to ask me that?" You adjust your hand so that it's forming a light fist under your chin.

"Um, since I first heard about it, actually."

"Really, that long ago? Before we even…" You trail off, not finishing your sentence.

"Yeah, since before we got involved."

"I'm surprised."

"Why?"

You shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know. You just surprise me. You've been surprising me."

"I have?" I ask, tilting my head. You grin.

"Definitely." For a second, we're quiet. I'm glad I asked you my question, and more than that, I'm glad you answered. You opening up to me feels pretty damn good.

There's a knock at the door.

"Must be the pillows," you say with a mischievous smirk, quickly turning and standing up beside the bed. You hadn't taken your prosthetic off earlier, something that's apparently coming in handy now. "Just a second!" You yell, throwing a robe over your naked form. I grab the sheet and wrap it around myself. Together, we walk toward the door. I hop behind it, and you pull it open. I couldn't have foreseen the events to follow even if I tried. I hear the conversation from only a foot away.

"You're not bringing me extra pillows." Your voice sounds dazed, unsure.

"You did something impulsive and you were thinking about yourself." Oh my God. The voice on the other side of the door is Callie's. Callie is here, your wife. Sure, you're separated, but it really wouldn't be good if she were to walk in here right now and see me. Callie's voice continues. I listen intently. "It seemed right at the time and, uh, you made a mistake, one mistake."

"Do we have to get into this now?" You seem uncertain of where this is going, and I'm glad that you ask if this is the appropriate time to discuss your problems. I'm right here listening in and although you know that, she doesn't.

"I did something like that today," Callie says, clearly ignoring your question.

"Uh, okay."

"Look I have something to ask and, uh, you should probably take some time to think about it. I don't need an answer tonight, but I would like to know…" There's a long pause. What does she want to know? What did she come all the way here for, at this hour, to ask you? "If you'll come home."

What? Did I hear that right? I can't believe those words just left her mouth.

My eyes drop to the ground. Your wife is asking you to consider the possibility of moving back in with her. If you do, you'll be with her again, and Sofia. You had a life with them once, in that apartment I've never been to. You had a history and memories. If you say yes, then you'll be able to be with your daughter again, your daughter who probably misses you like crazy. And you'll be with your wife again, every day and every night. Your wife… who apparently wants to try and mend things.

What the hell are you going to say?

I listen and wait. I wait for you to answer, to respond in some way, but you don't. You just stand there, silent. I hear soft footsteps in the hall. She's leaving. She came here and dropped a bomb on you, on us, and now she's walking away. I barely recognize a small amount of relief rush through me at the sound of her departure, but the relief doesn't last long. Slowly, you close the door. What happens now? You have a choice to make, and I have to admit, I'm afraid.

You very unhurriedly enter the room. You don't look at me. You sit down on the bed, that lush bed we were lying on only a minute ago. You put your head on the pillow and extend your body so that you're facing up. Why won't you look at me? Just look at me!

Even from here, I can see your face. The contours of your cheeks and jaw are stunning. But your eyes, they look distant, and cold. They look colder than I've seen them in a while. It frightens me. I don't want that person, that far-off person from before to come back with a vengeance, as seems to be happening right before my very eyes. I don't want you to lose the lightness that we've spent so much time creating. We were getting somewhere, damn it! And then she shows up and snatches it all away. How come she has such an influence over you? How is it possible that with a thirty-second conversation, she can put a drastic end to our escapades and leave you with an expression of reserved indifference? Please, don't let this be it for us. Don't let your history with her pull you out of this hotel room and back into her arms. Come into my arms instead! I'm right here, offering you something that I know you don't have with her. She offers you misery and heartache. I offer you laughter and ease. Isn't that better? Isn't that what you want?

Your voice penetrates my thoughts.

"You should get dressed now." You stop for a second. And in that second, I'm hopeful. Maybe you'll tell me that we should talk, that we still have a chance, but we need to have a discussion and make rules. In order to have that discussion, I need to be dressed, right? Please, tell me that's why you're asking me this, to cover my body. Because I think the alternative could very well break me. Please, don't ask me to end this. "And leave."

There it is.

But you don't ask me, you tell me. You, very simply, inform me that there's no conversation about to take place between us. This is you making a decision without even considering my thoughts on the matter. This is you throwing every single minute of our time together out the window. This is you tossing me to the side like a piece of trash. Is that what I am to you, now that your wife has come to beckon you home? One call from her, one single request, and you drop everything that we've become to go running back? I don't understand it. I don't understand you. We were more than this, I know we were. You showed me the darkness inside you and you invited me in. You gave me a key, literally. You let me sleep over last night. You were going to let me sleep over tonight! I made you laugh. I made you feel relaxed. What does she make you feel? Does she make you feel light, like I do? I know the answer is no, because otherwise you would be grinning from ear to ear right now instead of looking like your world is crashing down around you. You make me angry. You're letting her control you, and you're treating me like shit in the meantime. Who, exactly, do you think you are?

What's so ironic is that I know, on some level, what's going through your head. You think you love her. But the truth is, you don't. You love the concept of your life being stable, and that's how marriage is viewed in your mind, as steady and secure. That's what you want, so you're trying to get back to that place. But you don't really love your wife, not the actual person. And you think that Callie loves you, but she doesn't. She loves the person that you were. Now she sees you as flawed, as an adulterer. But I don't. Everything that she sees as a flaw, I see as a characteristic. She doesn't like that you cheated on her so she calls you a slut and she looks at you like you're beneath her. It's not like that with me. I see your act of cheating as way to reclaim a part of yourself that you lost. She thinks that you're selfish and unforgiving. I see you as headstrong, determined.

I just know that right now, while you're silently lying on that bed, you're caught up in the whole 'I love her, she's loves me' business. But it's all crap. You don't love each other anymore. It's obvious. You're just trying to use one another as a means to get back to that point in your lives when you felt happy and excited. What you need to realize is that you're more than capable of being happy without her, and vice versa. You and Callie were perfect, once upon a time, but that time has long ended. You've transformed into entirely different people with very different ideas of where you want your lives to go. You need to realize this, and accept it. If you don't, you'll just be stuck in this cycle of pretending that you're okay when you're the opposite. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you. Jesus, I can't believe you think that it'll all be okay if you just send me away and go back to that apartment. You've completely lost sight of what's really happening around you. I wish you'd take a better look. And you know what? If you'd just do that, if you'd stop to actually examine where you've brought yourself, where you've allowed your life to travel, you'd see that I'm right. Callie is not your happiness, not anymore. _You_ are your happiness, and I'm so much better at showing you that than she is. It's just so goddamn unfortunate that you don't see things like I do.

I force my legs to move. It's hard. They feel weak and unsteady. I focus my eyes on the floor as I quietly gather my things from about the room. I want to yell at you. I want to tell you that you're making the wrong choice. You're kicking me out when you should be doing the opposite. You should have told Callie that your answer was no, because you're better off without her clouding your judgement and your mood. But you didn't, and the thought breaks my heart. I don't think you'll ever see how good we could have been. Maybe once things disintegrate between you and your wife for the hundredth time, then you'll see it. I want to say I won't be waiting for you anymore, that I'll have moved on to someone else, but I know that's not the case. You could break my heart like this day after day and I'd still cling to you. The only reason I'm not down on my knees right this second is because you didn't offer me a choice in the matter. You merely notified me, like a stranger, that it was time for me to go. Yes, I'm angry. Yes, I'm hurt. But I'm only going to leave this hotel room because you've requested it. And who am I to deny you anything that you want, even if I know it's going to hurt you? As I walk to the door fully clothed, it's your will that controls my movements, not mine.

I don't want to go. Every fiber of my being is silently begging you to stop me, to tell me that you don't actually want me to leave. You called me back to you once before, when we were still new. I'd just smoked your cigarette and you'd woken up to me sitting at the window. I made some excuse, remember? I said I had to go to the hospital. Except when I was at the door, just like now, you spoke a single word to prevent me from leaving. You said my name. And just like that, I knew you didn't want me to go. So please, do that now. Say my name like you did those weeks ago, and let me drown myself in you one more time. Don't let this be it, Arizona. We can be so much more.

I hesitate, my hand on the handle and my eyes on you. You barely blink. Your eyes just look up, to stare at the white ceiling. I heave the door open and stand in the archway. I wait, still hanging on to that tiny bit of hope inside me. But you don't say a single thing. Your lips don't move and your body is still. You really do want me to go.

Without another look in your direction, I remove the room key from my pocket and drop it on a small table only a foot away. The sound echoes in my ears. I walk into the dimly lit hallway and don't look back as the door closes, effectively separating us. I try to push you from my mind. I try to forget everything that ever transpired between us. I use all of my energy to make my legs take one step after another until I reach the elevator. I hit the button to go down. In only a second, the metal doors open and I see a man inside. He's holding pillows. He smiles at me and politely steps around my frozen body. I can't help but watch him as he makes his way down the same path that I just walked. The elevator doors close. He stops in front of your room, that room I know so well, and knocks on the wooden surface. I can't bear to see you again, not yet, not accepting the pillows that were meant for us. So I hit the elevator button one more time and step inside once the doors open. I head to the ground floor.

As I step out, I hate the feeling of nausea that makes itself known in my stomach. How can you do this to me, make me feel sick at a moment's notice? I shouldn't be surprised. From the night that you booped my nose and we shared grilled cheese sandwiches, I should have known that you'd only cause me confusion and pain. It's kind of twisted actually, when I think about it. You cause me to feel the sort of grief that Callie causes you to feel.

I stop dead in my tracks.

I'm drawn to you like you're drawn to Callie. Or rather, you're drawn to the concept of what you had with her. Except it won't work and you just can't see that. I wish you could. I wish you could move on already.

In my past, I've felt the greatness of love itself come and go. But for the first time, I'm now feeling the intense pain of losing an actual person that I love. I'm in love with love, sure, but now I can say that I'm in love with an individual. That individual is you, the woman who allowed me into her heart when she was unreceptive to everyone else. And losing you feels horrible.

I might be pathetic or weak or whatever, but I hope you don't expect me to throw in the towel just yet. It's going to be hell seeing you at work everyday and watching you try to fix things with your marriage. Yes, it'll be hell. But in the end, I won't be able to simply toss you out of my life like you just so effortlessly did with me. You may never love me, but maybe one day you'll have to admit to yourself that we really did have something good here. We had honesty. And shit, we even started to have proper communication. Can you say the same about you and Callie, about the woman you couldn't even give a response to upstairs?

I don't know what our endgame will be, Arizona, but I'm not giving up on you.


End file.
